The Prophecy That Never Was
by GalaxyOwl13
Summary: With no prophecy the war dragged on for 7 years more. APWBD defeated Voldemort at the cost of his morals. Now three idealistic children are the only hope as a dangerous criminal escapes. Hermione, forced to attend Hogwarts, wants her orderly world back. Werewolf!Harry, raised by Lupin, aims to stay hidden. And Neville seeks his missing parents, taken by BL. Manipulative!Dumbledore
1. Prologue

**The Prophecy That Never Was: Book 1**

**Prologue**

**I apologize in advance for the gigantic AN.**

**This is a new Fanfiction that I've been thinking about for a while. It will mostly switch between the POV of Hermione, Harry, and Neville. This is an Alternate Universe where the prophecy was never made, and there is no Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort is defeated approximately 7 years later than in cannon. It will feature a Manipulative!Dumbledore who thinks he is doing the right thing, but he is corrupted by dark magic**

**The events before Chapter 1 will cause far-reaching consequences, so you can only assume that what happened before the Prophecy is true. Anything after that may be different. I will try to keep characterizations fairly consistent, but these characters grew up differently than in cannon. They won't be exactly the same, and many will hide surprises. Take nothing for granted unless I say it in the AN.**

**Horcruxes are still in play, so Voldemort may return. Harry, Hermione, and Neville will be important to the story. Expect about half of the chapters to be from the POV of Hermione, a quarter will be Harry's perspective, and the remaining quarter will be Neville. There will be other POVs, such as Voldemort or Dumbledore as side chapters, but these won't be used for the timeline other than the prologue.**

**I don't think there will be significant bashing of the Ron, although he won't be a main character. No other Weasley bashing.**

**Warnings: Death, Fighting, Sporadic Updates. The prologue is very dark, but short, and death and torture will be discussed.**

**Ships: So far, none. And it will remain this way until at least 4****th**** year (I think).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe. At all.**

It is a dark night, the darkest of the month as well as the longest night of the year, and Albus Dumbledore knows that today is when his magic is at its weakest. The moon is new; not even a tiny sliver of light shines in the sky other than the cold, unfeeling stars. Tonight is the Winter Solstice, normally a time for celebration around a nice warm fire, inside of a cozy house. If it wasn't for the war, he himself would be curled up on a sofa with a mug of hot cocoa and a good book on Alchemy. But tonight, when light magic is at its weakest, the dark rules. Tonight is when Voldemort is at his strongest. And Albus Dumbledore is certain that tonight would be the night he attacks Hogwarts.

It is a good place for a last stand, if any such place could be called good. The caverns and crevices in the mountains provide good places to hide and break up the soon-to-be battlefield. Voldemort's troops are be useless here – giants cannot fit where Dumbledore would hide, and infantry would be hindered by the rugged terrain. Once, Dumbledore would have preferred a battlefield where he could use large amounts of troops, but alas, the Order of the Phoenix is nearly destroyed. The Ministry is overrun, barely holding out to see another sunrise. Tonight, it will likely fall.

Diagon Alley is gone. All that remains is rubble and ash, covered in tents where refugees live, a few solitary buildings rising out of the ruins, Gringotts among them. Hogsmeade is controlled by Voldemort, and is where he made his gleaming fortress. The light side still holds St. Mungo's, but not for long. Not many people remain to fight back.

Dumbledore breaths in deeply. Tonight may be his last night alive. If he loses this battle, Voldemort will gain the Elder Wand, and will be able to conquer all of magical Britain, and probably the world. Contrary to the legend, the Elder Wand does not make one invincible. It is simply an incredibly powerful wand. However, if Voldemort controls it, then he would _practically _be invincible. The Elder Wand has been all that allowed Dumbledore to fight against the dark wizard, although it was the thing that held him back all these years. He had told himself to wait, for he could not risk the wand. Even as Voldemort swept through the country, unleashing chaos and destruction across the land, Dumbledore waited. But now he can wait no more.

No matter what, he must protect the school.

And that is why Dumbledore stands, alone, in the mountains, not far from Hogwarts, looking down upon Hogsmeade below. Soon, Voldemort will come, and they will fight. Dumbledore only hopes that the last members of the Order of the Phoenix will be able to hold out for long enough for the outcome to be decided. Brave Amelia Bones, who had survived despite the deaths of her brother, mother, and father. She would fight hard for her niece back at home. Sirius Black, who continued on in the face of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and James's death. Lily Potter, who would fight alongside him and Remus Lupin. Molly Weasley would stay at home, at Dumbledore's insistence. She has children to look after, now that Arthur Weasley had died in the Battle for the Ministry. It was likely that she would attempt to sneak into the fighting along with her usual rant about sexism, but Dumbledore had told Dirk Creswell to be on the lookout for her. Professor McGonagall would fight to defend her home and her students, who were nearly her children. As would many others. But it may not be enough.

Dumbledore waits for what feels like years, until there was a cracking sound behind him. He spins around, wand raised, to see Voldemort. Just as he had suspected.

"Tom. I thought you would come." Voldemort just smiles – an evil expression, that makes his eyes look as if they are not on fire, but made of fire itself.

"You insist on calling me that ridiculous name, old fool." Voldemort says quietly. His voice is almost whisked away by the wind, and yet Dumbledore can hear it clearly. "No matter. You shall die soon, so it shall not harm anyone for you to have that last pleasure beforehand."

"So confident that you shall win. Remember that such is the attitude of the fool. Fate plays games with us all." Dumbledore says softly, but sternly. He knows that this fight needs to be finished quickly for the defenders of Hogwarts to hold out, but he cannot let Voldemort discover this. If he does, then Voldemort would make sure to draw the conflict out. And so he continues the usual conversation, the usual attempts to play teacher, in hopes that he will seem as if he cares nothing for the time.

"Eager to duel?" Voldemort asks. He laughs quickly. Not the maniacal laughter that one would expect, but rather the soft sound of someone that knows they are the only one who understands the joke, and is amused. "I suppose I shall have to oblige." Quick as lightening, Voldemort shoots forth a beam of darkness, which Dumbledore easily dodges despite his old age. Like thunder, his attack lags behind, but it makes up for its in power. The ceiling of the cave begins to collapse on Voldemort, rubble the size of cars threatening to crush the dark wizard under its weight.

Yet Voldemort easily shields against it, and when the dust has cleared, him and Dumbledore are standing high on the mountain, alone. Dumbledore sends forth a torrent of water, which Voldemort turns into fire. Neither wizard seems remotely taxed by this. Dumbledore conjures a barrage of daggers; which Voldemort turns into snakes. Those snakes are in turn burned by purple fire that comes pouring forth from Dumbledore's wand. Within those flames, a ghostly phoenix is visible, urging the fire onwards, destroying all that it touches.

"Fiendfyre." Voldemort says, seemingly impressed. "So you wish to play that game." He too conjures fire, this a deep red, the color of blood, which is lead by a dark snake. The fire turns black in a few moments, meeting the purple flames head on.

Dumbledore casts a beam of light at Voldemort, but it is met head-on with an identical beam of darkness. Both wizards push, with all their might, all their magical strength. For a second, it seems that pure light has won, but the darkness pushes through, wrapping itself around Dumbledore, strangling the life out of him.

The space around Dumbledore explodes, and he emerges, covered in a bubble of light. Dumbledore now causes the ground below Voldemort to collapse, who does the same to Dumbledore. They both fall into the cavern below, landing on both feet, though now they are separated.

"Even the great Dumbledore, protector of the light, hides from me!" Voldemort crows, weaving among the stalagmites. A burst of energy shoots forwards, causing Voldemort to dodge. He conjures a snake, which slithers forth from his wand, leading him to the place under where the old wizard is hiding. Dumbledore drops down from the ceiling, conjuring a wave of pure light as he does. It seems as if Voldemort will be swept away, but he pulls himself out, directing blasts of energy at the stalactites on the ceiling. They fall down, hitting the ground with large crashes, several of them nearly missing Dumbledore.

"It's not to late, Tom!" Dumbledore cries, sending a bolt of lightening at Voldemort. "You can still redeem yourself!"

"Do you really think that I would ever do _that_?" Voldemort asks, disgusted. He counters the lightening with a conjured shield and sends forth his own attack, a burst of black energy. Dumbledore blocks it with a shield of light giving him enough time to get out of the way before the dark wins out, gouging a deep hole in the cavern floor. Voldemort casts another spell, and enchantment, and from below them rises a gigantic creature, breaking through the cavern floor. It is made of stone, and incredibly large, and it scoops Dumbledore up in one hand. Dumbledore creates a shield of light, which keeps him from becoming crushed, but the strain in his face is visible as the shield begins to fail. The unyielding stone hand with a rune carved in the palm begins to close around him. It seems like Dumbledore is dead, but he makes the figure disintegrate with a torrent of flame. It crumbles into black dust, and he and Voldemort rise through a hole in the ceiling.

"You're losing." Voldemort says, sending his Fiendfyre at Dumbledore again. Dumbledore counters it, but just barely.

"Someday, even if I fall, someone shall destroy you." Dumbledore promises.

"Never." Voldemort says, shooting forth from this wand an advanced thirteen spell chain all three of the Unforgivable Curses at astounding speeds. "I have made myself immortal!" Dumbledore dodges twelve of those in the spell chain, but dives straight into another one. He is wracked with pain – his blood seems to be on fire as he screams. And then it's over, and Voldemort is standing over him, victorious.

"I have waited for this moment for so long," Voldemort begins, "and yet I am not quite sure what to say." Dumbledore grunts in pain as Voldemort wrestles his wand from his grip.

"Normally, the villain gloats when he has defeated his foe." Dumbledore suggests faintly, stalling for time as he attempts to think of a plan. But he has no wand, and Voldemort is to powerful. He's lost. It's over.

"You've lost." Voldemort says, echoing his thoughts. "I shall destroy everyone who dares to stand against me. I considered letting you live to watch it, but I am no idiot. You are too dangerous to be left alive."

"Please." Dumbledore pleads, reaching into his robes discreetly for his original wand, the one that he used in the battle against Grindelwald. But Voldemort notices, and steps down on it, hard, breaking it. The phoenix feather core snaps in two, and something in Dumbledore feels as though it's died. Tears fill the old wizard's eyes. This is not how he wanted to die, on the ground, at the mercy of one of his old students.

"Goodbye." Voldemort says, smirking. "I suppose that if you're beliefs are true, you're about to see Arianna and Aberforth now. I wonder what they'll think when they hear you failed. I suppose we'll just have to see. Time to join them, old man." And at that moment, something inside of Dumbledore snaps.

"NO!" Dumbledore cries. The killing curse disappears in a massive surge of black energy – power that Dumbledore had held in, no matter what the cost, power that had been too terrifying to ever use, that was best left alone. Power that no decent witch or wizard would ever consider using. The Darkness.

The whirlwind of nothingness surrounds Dumbledore, who leaps to his feet, eyes blazing. The Elder Wand returns to its master, and Voldemort is overcome by the swirling vortex. Dumbledore rises in the air, eyes seeing the very magic coursing through the world. Power, once locked away, is now at his fingertips. Voldemort has finally met his equal.

Now Voldemort is lying on the ground, and Dumbledore does not hesitate for a moment. It only takes a little bit of cracking in the soul to cast the killing curse. And Dumbledore has more than enough. Voldemort collapses, lifeless, mocking eyes now silent and glazed over. But the Darkness continues to swirl around, fueled by Dumbledore's righteous anger with the world that crippled and killed Arianna Dumbledore, that forced him to kill Gellert Grindelwald, that made the dead members of the Order of the Pheonix sacrifice their lives to a cause because Dumbledore said it was worth it. Worth the death. Worth the pain. Nothing can stop the anger now. It sweeps through the ranks of Deatheaters, waiting at the foot of the mountain in case Voldemort may need reinforcements. All of them fall dead in an instant, but the Darkness continues on.

From within the spiral, Dumbledore senses it nearing the battle, and tries desperately to reign it in. He cannot let it reach the fighting, or else everyone, Order members and Deatheaters alike, will die. He screams, trying with all of his might to control the Darkness, trying not to let it control him. It is a constant battle, an eternal struggle between light and dark, that lies within his soul. It only takes a little bit of cracking. And Dumbledore has quite a lot.

The Darkness seeps into those cracks, making them widen and grow, taking more and more control as Dumbledore continues to fight. But it's the same thing that started the Darkness that reigns it in. A little girl, no more than 12, is out in the Hogwarts courtyard when a Deatheater breaks through. She screams in fright, blonde pigtails flying as she stumbles backwards. She reminds Dumbledore of Arianna, and he is consumed by pain, pain and love that blocks out all else, leaving no room for the anger and the destruction.

The Darkness ebbs away, leaving Dumbledore in the middle of a circle of destruction, crumpled on the ground atop rubble and dead bodies. Deatheaters. Voldemort is no where to be found. Dumbledore comes to his senses, and struggles to his feet. At Hogwarts, the Deatheaters retreat, learning of their dead master, cowards racing away from the fight. The members of the Order of the Phoenix begin to tend to their wounded, helping the Hogwarts students fighting in the battle. Dumbledore breathes a sigh of relief.

And then he sees what he has done. Seven Deatheaters lay dead on the ground, bodies broken and lifeless, skin burned away by the pure darkness as if they came from the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. Voldemort gone, presumably vanquished, his robes and wand lying on the ground. "No." Dumbledore whispers, sinking to his knees as he sees the circle of destruction before him, his creation, undeniably his fault. "No. What have I done?"

**There will likely be a long wait before any other chapter. I checked – the moon was not new at this point in time, but it works for the story. Let's just say it's magic. I'm using the soul the way it's used in the books, but if you don't want to think about it like that pretend it's the mind.**


	2. Chapter 1: Beginnings and Endings (HG)

**This chapter is from Hermione's POV. Keep in mind that Dumbledore has been corrupted by the darkness, and he is trying to do the right thing for the wizarding world. He thinks this is all perfectly reasonable, and I don't think he's nearly as bad as in some stories.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe and never will.**

Hermione sat on the red, cozy couch, squished in between her parents. Normally, she'd have hated that, like any self-respecting eleven-year-old, but right now she was glad to have her parents for comfort. Because right in front of her was a _witch_. A strict-looking, glasses-wearing witch with a _magic wand_. A witch who could turn into a _cat_.

"Can I learn how to turn into a cat too?" Hermione asked curiously. She wasn't sure if she liked the sound of this "Wizarding World", but she did want to learn how to turn into a cat. That sounded very difficult, and Hermione was never one to turn down a challenge.

"It's rather difficult magic, but you might be able to learn it if you obtain an apprenticeship with an Animagus. Now I do believe that is all. I shall see you in a week to pick up your supplies." She handed Hermione an envelope with a red seal on it. Pressed into the red wax was a crest, presumably that of Hogwarts, with a lion, badger, snake, and raven on it. The professor turned to leave.

"Now wait a second!" Dan Granger, Hermione's father, said. "What makes you so certain that Hermione will attend your school? She's applied to quite a lot of them."

"Don't be ridiculous." Professor McGonagall scoffed. "Of course Miss Granger will receive her magical education at Hogwarts. Where else would she go? France?"

"Perhaps I don't want to learn magic at all." Hermione said, seeing what her father was getting at. "You said that your world is still rebuilding from a war, and that there's a lot of prejudice against so-called 'Muggleborns' like me. I'm sure being a witch is considered an extremely respectable profession, but I think that I want to be a scientist. Maybe work with computers." She started to get into fact-mode, her voice becoming bossy and her vocabulary peppered with words that she had looked up in a dictionary to sound important. "And yet your curriculum includes _absolutely _no English, no mathematics, and no scientific knowledge, even that based on magical theory. How exactly am I supposed to learn Physics if you don't teach it? I would be losing a _lot _of options." Hermione inwardly winced at her fact-mode outburst.

"Why would you want to waste your time with Muggle professions when there's magic?" Professor McGonagall looked confused. "You cannot ignore your destiny. You are a witch. You _will_ learn magic."

"Actually, I think I can decide my destiny for myself, thank you very much." Hermione said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. "And normal jobs are _not _a waste of time. My parents are dentists, and they help quite a lot of people."

"Nevertheless, you must learn to control your magic." Professor McGonagall explained. "All witches and wizards must be educated through their O.W.L.S."

"Your teachers are owls?" Hermione asked, squinting. "I thought they were the messengers..."

"No, the O.W.L.S. are examinations that you take in your fifth year." The teacher explained. "But magical owls do serve as swift messengers." It seemed that Professor McGonagall had a fact-mode of her own.

"I think I can learn to control my magic by myself. Your people are patronizing towards people like my parents. You're still rebuilding from a war that sounds like it may just start right up again. Your society is a mess, and your school has barely any students. I don't want to go to a school where everyone will hate me because of my parents." Hermione looked over at her mom and dad, who nodded. This was the hardest split-second decision of her life, but she made it. "I'm – I mean, I am – afraid I must respectfully decline your invitation."

"You don't seem to understand, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Your magic is a danger to yourself and others, and may destroy the International Statue of Secrecy. You simply _must _receive training, and Hogwarts is the only place that you can do so."

"If magic is so great, why don't you help everyone with it?" Hermione asked. "You could work with our scientists – I'm sure you could cure cancer in no time! You could make Muggles live years longer! You could end hunger, and give homes to the homeless! But no, you hide away, fighting amongst yourselves over jealously guarded secrets and artifacts. Magic doesn't sound so good now, does it?"

"Regardless of your opinion, you are required to receive your education." Professor McGonagall said.

"I seriously doubt that it takes five years to gain control of your magic." Hermione said.

"It only takes less than one, of course. Mainly it's just your wand bonding with you that gives you the control." Professor McGonagall explained.

"Well, then, all I need to do is have a wand bond with me. I'm sure I could learn to control the magic, and then forget about it forever. I want to work with computers and they don't work in Hogwarts. I simply cannot neglect five whole years of my education!" Hermione exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. "According to Educational Decree Twenty-Four, all individuals with more than a trace of magic must be educated with at least 5 years of magical education at Hogwarts or an equivalent school of magic and receive at least 3 O.W.L.S. before they are allowed to terminate their education at Hogwarts. In other words, Miss Granger, you are legally required to go to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang for five years and pass three of our standard 5th year tests."

"What about Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked.

"Do you speak French, Miss Granger?" She questioned.

"No, but I can learn. Anything sounds better than Hogwarts." Hermione was pretty sure she could learn, at least. It may take a year, but there were all these papers about being immersed in a language leading to an incredibly fast learning rate. She could always study English textbooks on her own and pretend she understood what the teacher was saying. Though when she thought about it, it was actually a lot harder than she had thought. She could figure something out though, she was sure. Or go to school in America. At least they spoke English there.

"I'm afraid that you would need express permission from both the Headmaster of Hogwarts and of Beauxbatons in order to transfer your attendance. As for Durmstrang, they do not accept Muggleborn students such as yourself." The Professor explained.

"This is stupid!" Hermione complained. "The Wizarding World government isn't my government!"

"Yes, Miss Granger, it is. You are legally required to attend Hogwarts. Once, you would have been able to move to France and attend Beauxbatons, but after the war there were so few students that the numbers were changed from 2 years of magical education to 5. You will attend Hogwarts on September 1st. You simply have no choice."

"Yes she does!" Dan Granger yelled. "I will not have you kidnap my daughter and indoctrinate her into your little cult against her will!"

"Come." Professor McGonagall commanded. "I see now that we must go to Diagon Alley sooner rather than later. Perhaps when you see what magic can do, you will be more enthusiastic."

"No." Hermione said, backing away.

"If you do not come with me now, I will have to use force. You have magic. You must be educated, for the sake of all those that died in the war. They fought for your rights, and they _died_ for it. You will come with me now." Professor McGonagall said, tears forming in her eyes at the thought of the fallen and anger overtaking her mind. Hermione could only imagine what she was thinking as the Professor's face became ice cold with fury.

"No!" Hermione screamed. "Take it then! Take away my magic so that I won't have to come! Go on, make it go away! I want nothing to do with your world."

"I cannot, as you put it, take away your magic. It is part of you. You would die if you lost your magic." The Professor sighed. "Albus told me that you may be unwilling to come at first, and he told me that I was to bring the students at all costs. He authorized me to use whatever magic necessary. Do you understand? Either you will come, or I will use magic and bring you."

"I will not have you take Hermione!" Emma Granger, Hermione's mother, rushed at the Professor. "I won't let you! How dare you try to kidnap –" She crumpled to the ground at a wave of Professor McGonagall's wand.

"You killed my mother!" Hermione screamed, charging at Professor McGonagall and hitting an invisible forcefield.

"She's merely unconscious, and will wake up in a few hours." The witch said calmly, though Hermione could sense the rage beneath the surface. "Now grab ahold of my arm. _Now._" As if Hermione was going to walk up to the woman and willingly present herself for kidnapping.

"I won't let you do this to her!" Dan Granger shouted. "I won't –" He too fell to the ground, hit by a red beam of light.

Hermione screamed and ran up the stairs, pursued by the tired professor. "I won't let you do this! You can't!" The two witches faced each other in the upstairs hallway. Professor McGonagall raised her wand, but the red Stunner was knocked off course when a flurry of flying books smacked her in the head. Hermione was filled with a feeling of power as books from all over the house flew at Professor McGonagall. Of all the things she could channel her accidental magic through, of _course_ it was books.

Hermione raced past the professor and down the stairs, towards the door –

– and she tripped –

– and she fell –

– and rolled –

– and something red –

– and it flew past her –

– and then darkness.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, she was in a clean-smelling room with beds neatly pushed up against the wall. The sheets were white, and beside her was a small table with a black clock. It looked kind of like a hospital. Where was she? What was going on?

"I see that you are awake." An old man said. Hermione squinted to adjust her vision and saw that he was wearing purple robes and a weird pointy hat. He had half-moon spectacles and twinkling blue eyes that made Hermione wonder what he knew that she didn't. Probably quite a lot, but those eyes looked as if they held all the secrets in the world. However, unlike his cheerful eyes, the rest of his face looked strained and worried, and his shoulders were hunched. This, Hermione concluded, was the Hogwarts Headmaster. The one who told Professor McGonagall to kidnap her if necessary. And he had been watching to see when she woke up. Creepy.

"Let me go home." Hermione demanded as soon as she had found her voice.

"I'm afraid you cannot return home, Miss Granger." The Headmaster said sadly. "You have shown that you are not to be trusted."

"Don't you know how wrong this is?" Hermione asked. "This is kidnapping! You could get in so much trouble for this!"

"First of all," the Headmaster explained, "this is perfectly legal."

"But –"

"Think, Miss Granger. What would happen in the Muggle world if parents refused to send their children to school?" Hermione's face fell. "Exactly. The child would be taken by the government while the parents went under investigation. Besides, although you have the rights of a normal witch or wizard, your parents don't. They have no magic."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Fine then. Let me go back to my parents, and I'll come to your stupid school!"

"You are considered a flight risk, Miss Granger. If you follow the rules and listen to instructions, then you will be allowed to return home next summer.

"A flight risk? What is this, a prison? Actually," Hermione frowned, "it kind of is. Why, though?" She added softly. "Why can't you just let me go home? Please."

"No." Dumbledore said sternly. "I apologize, but I cannot."

"You – you _apologize_?" Hermione said incredulously. "You people are the ones who made these stupid rules!"

"Actually, no, I am not. That is the Wizengamot." Dumbledore explained.

"But you said you were the Chief Warlock of that!"

"I have one vote for my position, along with one vote for the House of Dumbledore. I do not control the Wizengamot in the slightest. Those are the heads of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses."

"Why doesn't someone tell them to go shut up and _die_?" Hermione asked furiously. She hadn't said anything like that ever before. She probably would have been cursing if she actually knew any curse words.

"Self-preservation, my dear." Hermione grimaced. How could he keep up with this grandfatherly act when he was imprisoning her in this place against her will? "It is difficult for anyone, no matter their parentage, to get a job or make their way in the magical world unless they are protected by a Noble and Most Ancient House."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "So your government is controlled by a bunch of hereditary rulers who 'represent' everybody else. Unless your parents have titles and money, you need to suck up to people who do."

"There are some elected seats, but yes, the majority of the Wizengamot consists of wizarding Lords and Ladies, which is hereditary."

"So your world is controlled by the purebloods, most of which hate the Muggleborns. These purebloods make the laws. You're in ruins due to a war, and over half of your previous population is dead. The Wizarding World is horrible."

"All I can say," Professor Dumbledore said, "is that half of the Wizengamot consists of women, and the probability for the Minister of Magic to be male or female is about 50-50. Whichever family name is more powerful is taken by a married couple, and if they are of equal power, the name becomes hyphenated. It may become so anyway if a couple wishes."

"You're still stuck in the Medieval Age." Hermione said. "And you don't give Muggles any rights. There aren't by any chance still betrothal contracts, are there?" Dumbledore didn't answer. "That was supposed to be a joke."

"Well…the practice has died out among all but the noble houses." Dumbledore said.

"That's messed up." Hermione responded. "Can I please at least go to my parents to say goodbye?"

"No." Dumbledore said firmly. "You will remain in the Wizarding World until September 1st, when you will go to Platform 9 ¾ to take the train ride with the other students."

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. First a witch kidnaps her, telling her it's for her own good, and attacks her parents in the process. Then she learns that she has to stay in a broken world where she'll be discriminated against for five years. Now the Headmaster told her that she can't see her parents for another year, and only for a month even then, and she can't even say goodbye. "Please." Hermione pleaded. "They'll be so worried."

"No." Dumbledore said, his twinkling eyes turning stern and cold. At long last, he had stopped the benevolent act. "You will remain in the Wizarding World as I say, or you will suffer consequences!"

"You're evil!" Hermione ran at him, unsure of quite what she was doing, but her mind just filled with rage at the injustice of it all. She hit a forcefield around the wizard, which she pounded away at before slumping to the ground, crying. Something inside of her felt broken, but she wasn't sure what it is. It felt like everything, and she had a deep, bottomless hole in her chest. "Please…" she whispered, sobbing, "I, I, I…only w-want t-t-to say g-g-goodbye!"

Dumbledore sighed, the darkness vanishing from his eyes. "I will conjure a messenger. You may say a message to it, and it will travel to your parents. They will be able to respond. I will only do this once, do you understand." Hermione nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes and trying to breath. She couldn't do anything for now. Dumbledore and McGonagall had magic, and she didn't know how to use hers. For now, there was only one thing to do. She would try her best to learn magic, devote every waking moment to learning that and her muggle classes. She could keep learning math, science, and history, and she was so far ahead in her reading that five years without a class wouldn't make much of a difference. She would be ready to re-enter the Muggle world in five years. And maybe, she might just find a way to escape early. But she had to make it look like she wanted to do well. She would follow the rules to the letter and be a good student. No one would suspect that she would be mentally plotting to escape.

"I - I'm ready." Hermione said. "W-would I be able to s-send messages with owls to my parents during the y-year?"

"Of course. You will just be unable to see them in person, or talk to them live." Dumbledore explained. That made things easier. They could send her textbooks. She gathered her thoughts, and prepared herself for sending the message. Dumbledore was watching, and she had to make it sound a certain way. "Remember, though. If you attempt to sneak out to the castle to visit them, there will be consequences."

"Like – like what?" Hermione asked defiantly. _Seriously? You are a horrible actor. You're trying to seem like a good, obedient student, and then you just have to challenge the person in charge, don't you?_

"We have spells in the Wizarding World that can affect the mind. Nearly all of them are illegal. However, there are two that you can use on muggles: the Confundus Charm, and Oblivation." That sounded ominous. "Wizards cannot simply use them whenever they please, but I have a permit from the ministry to use the Oblivation Charm to remove Muggle's memories of magic for the safety of the Statue of Secrecy. This includes things that I cannot separate from the magic. If you follow all of the rules, there is no issue with_ allowing_ you visit your parents once a year and send letters back and forth. If it poses a threat to your education, however, I may not be able to separate memories of magic from memories of you. Do you understand?" Hermione nodded fearfully. If Dumbledore went that far, there would be no way that Hermione could return to the Muggle world.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a silvery phoenix sprung out of it, woven from strands of light. It seemed to emit joy, calming Hermione down and making her feel that everything would be alright. Suddenly, she felt a whole lot more peaceful, although she couldn't help wondering if this was the only reason why Dumbledore was allowing her to do this. "This is called a Patronus. It can be used as a defense against several dark creatures, and can carry messages. Patroni are difficult to cast, but worth the effort. One cannot tamper with their messages. Tell it what you wish for it to tell your parents."

Hermione took a deep breath and began. "I know you're probably frantic with worry right now, but I'm okay. Professor McGonagall took me to Hogwarts, and the Headmaster is letting me contact you. He says I have to stay here until the end of the school year, when I can see you for a month. I – I really miss you already, but I'll be fine. No one's hurt me, and magic does seem really useful even though I would prefer to just be a scientist."

"We can send each other letters," she continued, "since the school has owls to carry them. Electronics don't work here, so I can't use a computer or anything like that, but I can still study Math, History, and Science here without the experiments for after fifth year. I'm going to work hard on magic so that I can control it and the Headmaster will let me leave. Tell Grandma happy birthday for me, since I can't go to visit her. Please don't worry about me. And don't try to find and rescue me. There's nothing we can do about magic, they're really powerful. They have a spell that they can use to erase your memories. Please don't make them do that, they really will if they think they have to."

"I know I'm trapped here, but it's a nice place to be trapped, I guess. From where I'm sitting, I can see a lake out the window, and the school is in an ancient castle. I'll try to make some friends, since I know you would want that. I'm – I'm sorry that you're losing your daughter to magic, but I'll be able to come back for good after my fifth year if I work hard enough. Five years sure seems like a lot, but I'll be busy. It'll fly by."

"I – I love you. Goodbye." Hermione said, tears running down her cheeks. The phoenix flew out the window at an incredible speed. A minute later, the phoenix flew back in and replied in her mother's voice.

"We love you, sweetie. You're right, when we woke up we were panicking. We nearly called the police. It's horrible that they took you away from us, but we trust you when you say there's nothing we or you can do, and it's horrifying that they can remove memories. You should set up some sort of signal like in the movies in case you lose your memory."

"We can still scarcely believe that magic is real, but I think by this point it's rather obvious. We miss you already, and we wish that you could come home for Christmas. The Wizarding World seems like a wreck, but it is possible that you may grow to love it as it begins to improve." _Not a chance_. "If you do, don't feel like you're betraying us. It's your life, and your future. Try to enjoy yourself. You can't spend five years being sad. Make friends, even if they don't respect Muggles. Even Professor McGonagall doesn't, and she's the one they chose to talk to us."

"Of course," Dan Granger interrupted, "you asked us for textbooks while you said goodbye. We wholeheartedly support your plan to continue with your normal education, and we'll be sure to send you your books. We'll also give you some money for school supplies, as if you're going to be forced to stay in the Wizarding World we might as well make it as easy for you as possible. Buy some books with the extra."

"Dan, how could you talk about schoolwork at a time like this?" Emma asked.

"It will make her feel better. Give her something to think about." Dan said. Hermione let out a sob.

"We love you, so, so much." Emma said quietly. "More than…"

"More than there are stars in the sky." Hermione finished in unison with her mother. She reached out to touch the glowing, silvery phoenix with wonder in her eyes, but just as she touched it the beautiful bird dissolved into a thousand silvery droplets of light, droplets that looked like the silver stars in the sky. "No –" Hermione whispered. "Come back!" But the phoenix with the voices of her parents and the glow of the stars was gone.


	3. Chapter 2: Diagon Alley Part 1 (HP)

**About the subject of Harry's vault: it's frozen right now. For all the goblins know, Harry Potter could be dead. He was taken from his house immediately after the final battle. It's useful to keep them thinking that for now. He may claim it soon, or he may have reasons why he can't. **

**I am going with about 12-15 people per house per year in Cannon (normally it would be 18-20, but birth rates are low due to the war). In this world, there are only about 6-8. Many, like the Patil twins, moved away or never came to the UK in the first place. Some died in attacks on Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. A few were killed when Death Eaters hunted down their family or were killed during raids on Death Eater houses. **

**I have redone the monetary system, which I will explain in the next chapter. In addition, I would love suggestions as to where characters should be sorted. I'm having a massive issue with the sorting, which is part of why I didn't want to post this. I apologize for the long space between updates.**

Nestled away in a vibrant green forest, mystical and bursting with life of all shapes and sizes, was a small village. Seventeen houses made of brick and wood, along with a town hall, an inn, a small stone fortress, and a clothing store, stood around a small square lined with colorful stones. A dirt road winds its way through the houses, branching out to lead to each individual house. There are thirty-one inhabitants, many with the ability to wield magic, although some without it. This village does not officially exist.

Early in the morning, when the streaks of orange and pink had just barely vanished from the sky, a small boy with messy hair and bags under his eyes sat by a crystal-clear window, staring out into the trees longingly. His name was Harry Potter, and he would be leaving the village for the first time in two years, the first time since Uncle Moony had brought him here and The Accident had occurred.

Downstairs, he could smell the glorious aroma of pancakes heating up over a magical fire, being cooked by Jenna Heathers, one of the younger women in the tiny village. Despite being unable to use magic, she was kind and friendly to all, the very image of what people like her could be if given a chance. She had always been nice to Harry, unlike some of the more hostile villagers, bitter from years of war and bigotry towards their kind. Uncle Moony would be in there to wake him soon, at which point he would bound excitedly forth and murder his pancakes, talking rapidly about how he was so excited to finally leave.

But for now, Harry would sit by his window at his tiny table, thinking about the nightmare that had woken him up. Harry always had the nightmares around the full moon, and it had only been five days since the last one. He would tell Uncle Moony that he was nearly recovered, of course, but a werewolf could never be completely free of the icy full moon hanging up there in the sky. Harry looked down at the picture of his parents holding him on the day he was born. They looked so happy, so carefree, despite the war going on at their doorstep. Little did they know that they would have only five short years before the family would be torn apart by the father's death.

Harry shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. He _was _excited, that was no lie. He missed Diagon Alley and all the magic humming around the place. He could hear it, like it was just a bit too high or low for humans to hear. He did sometimes wonder if animals could hear magic. He had waited for this since he was nearly nine, and asked when he would be allowed to leave the village. It did not at all dampen his enthusiasm that this would merely be a quick trip – in and out. He could get a wand at Ollivanders, and that would be it. Mary Prince, one of the four non-werewolf members of the village, had gotten Harry's birthday present already, although _officially _he only knew that everyone who had wanted to had pooled their money on it.

He picked up his letter, from Hogwarts, savoring each word. He, a _werewolf_, was invited to Hogwarts. Sure, they needed as many people as possible to replenish the population of the Wizarding World, but even Muggleborns were considered higher than werewolves. At least Muggleborns had the same rights as half-bloods (in theory). Werewolves had barely any at all. The most you would get for an unauthorized killing of one of them was a fine, and that was rare. In general, you were told that you had done a great service to the community. But the Headmaster didn't know that Harry was a werewolf. The Headmaster wasn't even supposed to know he was alive, but Uncle Moony said that he had seemed nearly omniscient. Still, Harry had a chance, and he was not going to waste it. He had his very own letter, and soon, his very own wand.

"Harry!" Uncle Moony's voice called from outside the door. "Happy birthday!" Harry grinned at once and opened the door. "So you _were _up this whole time. How long?" Suddenly, Uncle Moony looked worried. He could change so fast that you wondered if he was ever really happy or just pretending.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Just an hour or so…I'm fine, really." Uncle Moony gave him a hug. "I got Jenna to cook you some pancakes. Or more, she shoved me aside, told me my cooking was horrible, and began to make them."

"They smell delicious." Harry commented as they made their way down the stairs. They creaked, but didn't fall. Magic kept this house together, because it certainly wouldn't be standing otherwise.

"And here's the birthday boy!" Jenna said cheerfully, flipping a large one in a pan as she spoke. "Happy – arg!" She staggered backwards as Harry gave her a hug. Jenna normally loved them, but apparently it was a bad idea to try that if she was cooking. A finished pancake flew into the air and landed on his head. Pausing to apologize, Harry, picked the pancake up and took a bite out of it.

"Yum." He proclaimed, his mouth full of food. Uncle Moony gave a rare laugh, and for a moment everyone was happy. Then the serious stuff had to begin.

Sitting down at the table with plenty of pancakes and orange juice, the three werewolves began to talk. "Okay, so we're going to make our trip today to get the wand. Lucinda knows about this, right, Jenna?"

"Yeah, but she'll probably forget." Jenna said thoughtfully. "I'll be over at my shop with Andrew, and that'll likely be the first place Lucinda looks if she gets worried. Plus, I know all about everything here, and you know how she is."

Harry smiled. Jenna was basically the gossiping neighbor of the village, except she somehow managed to do it in a nice way. She knew everyone's birthday, their personality, their thought process, their parents' names, and where everyone happened to be at the moment. Everyone was her friend, even the children. Currently, there were four children in the village at the moment, two of them non-werewolves. The non-werewolf children were Catherine and Brandon McGuire. Both of them were children of Vincent and Cordelia McGuire. Vincent McGuire was a non-werewolf, so any of his children had a chance of not becoming werewolves themselves. The other werewolf child in the village besides Harry was Rose Zeller, a close friend of Catherine Stewart.

"I will be taking Harry to Ollivanders in a few minutes via Apparation. We will arrive near The Leaky Cauldron and enter. We shall go to Ollivanders, get a wand, and leave. If we are spotted by anyone who might raise an alarm, I shall contact you through the mirror, and we will decide whether to abort the mission or not. Are you ready, Harry?" Harry nodded. Uncle Moony always talked like an Auror when things were this important. And they really were incredibly important. Two werewolves would be going into Diagon Alley in broad daylight, with people. Harry took a deep breath.

Uncle Moony led him to behind the cottage and with a _crack!_ the world seemed to spin, pressing in on Harry.

Turning –

Spinning –

Whirling –

Tornado –

Scream –

Whirlwind –

BAM!

Harry hit the street hard, bruising his leg. He struggled to his feet, pulling himself up with Uncle Moony's arm. They had landed near a pub with a sign proclaiming it "The Leaky Cauldron". Harry felt like he was going to be sick. "Feeling okay there, Harry?" Harry jerked his head in a no, not willing to risk speaking.

Eventually, he was able to choke out an "I'm fine" and they made their way to Ollivanders. A bell dinged as Harry stepped into the shop. Mr. Ollivander was there within seconds, stepping down from a ladder that travelled among the dusty shelves.

"Mr. Potter. I was wondering when I might see you here. You have your mother's eyes, you know. It seems only yesterday when she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work, as well as for Healing. Lily Potter was astoundingly good at that." Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry, silver eyes unblinking and curious.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, and quite pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Harry nodded. Uncle Moony had told him all about that. He just hoped that a wand would choose him quickly and that he wouldn't sit there in the shop for hours, waiting for a wand that would never appear.

"It's alright." Uncle Moony chuckled. "When I was first here, I thought that I could never be a wizard. I wasn't even going to go to Hogwarts until Dumbledore showed up. I didn't expect a wand to choose me, but it did."

"Ah, Mr. Lupin. I remember your first wand – but that's not the one you carry, is it? You received your new wand thirteen years ago. Cypress, with a unicorn hair core. Pliable. Is it still in good shape?"

"As reliable as ever, Mr. Ollivander. We are in a bit of a hurry today, though."

"The process cannot be rushed!" Mr. Ollivander sounded offended. "Oh, no! This is a most delicate procedure. Would you deprive young Mr. Potter of his best fitted wand?"

"I merely meant to say that I do not have the time to stay and chat about my wand. Being here at all is risky." Uncle Moony explained.

"I understand." Mr. Ollivander's eyes softened. "After the London attacks…well, you're lucky you aren't traced. You may still be, you know. But we shall, as you are surely wishing to say, 'get on with it'." He rummaged through a pile of papers and pulled out a long tape measure with silver runes. "Which is your wand arm?"

"My right hand." Harry said quietly, having watched the proceedings with great interest. The was Mr. Ollivander talked, it seemed like a precise art to match a wand to a wizard. Mr. Ollivander started taking measurements before leaving the tape measure to work on his own.

"This will do." Mr. Ollivander announced. He had been searching among the shelves until he found one. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –" The wand was snatched quickly out of his hands before he even got a good look at it. "No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, rather springy."

This wand was a beautiful dark brown color with elaborate carvings and runes all over it. He waved it, but it was soon snatched out of his hands. He was handed willow, mahogany, cypress, holly, vine, and silver lime, but none of them worked. "Perhaps…red oak and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry sighed as he took the wand, expecting another failure, but as soon as it touched his hand a sudden warmth spread throughout his fingers. He smiled. The wand felt like coming home, filling him with a feeling of rightness. Harry could hear the faint buzzing of magic from the wand, _his _wand now. It was a dark reddish-brown color, and fairly plain. A circle of runes was carved around the base. It wasn't particularly shiny or polished, but it was smooth. The bottom part of the wand was a bit large for his hand, but it fit comfortably. The wand was simple, yet practical. Harry flicked it, and a stream of red and gold sparks shot through the wand, reminding him of the Gryffindor crest. What did that mean?

Harry payed for the wand with his golden coins and he left the shop with Uncle Moony, his mind still on the House that he hoped to be Sorted into. His mother and father were both Gryffindors, as was his Uncle Moony. Uncle Padfoot had also been a Gryffindor. But Wormtail, who everyone refused to tell him about, had been a Gryffindor too. Uncle Moony had told him multiple times that he shouldn't be ashamed if he was a Slytherin, meaning that he seemed to think that there was a possibility for that actually happening.

They took a different way home, because apparently Uncle Moony had forgotten something that he needed to pick up. This time, instead of the bustling town that appeared on the Main Alley, the houses were a dull grey and the streets a dusty, dirty brown. Cobblestoned portions appeared occasionally, but more often than not the street was riddled with holes. Beggars sat on the sides of the road, holding non-magical signs. "Who're they?" Harry asked Uncle Moony. Sure, there may be issues with rent in the Wizarding World, but no one could want for food when they had magic. Besides, it was rather easy to build a home with magic.

"Uneducated folk, mostly." Uncle Moony said. "Some lost all they had during the war and were forced to work instead of attending Hogwarts. Others are orphaned children, unable to use magic outside of school and hoping to raise a few Galleons to buy extra school supplies. Some people were expelled from Hogwarts, and others left willingly after their second year only to discover they liked this world years later."

"Second year?" Harry asked.

"Educational Degree 36 wasn't in place until two years ago, the summer after the war ended." Uncle Moony explained.

"Sorry, I always get my dates mixed up." Uncle Moony literally had to drag Harry away from a small boy sitting on the side of the road with a small can. He had brown hair and sad brown eyes that stared pleadingly at each passerby. The child couldn't have been more than seven. "Why can't we help him?" Harry asked. "Even we can spare a few knuts."

"Watch." Uncle Moony sighed. About a minute later, a man came out of a nearby apartment and began to argue with the boy. Harry, with his excellent hearing, eavesdropped on the conversation.

"How much've you got?" The man asked, checking the can. "A sorry seven Sickles?"

"Daddy, a man fixed my shoes and shirt!" The boy said quietly, looking down at the road. "I don't look like a beggar, so no one gave me anything." He took off his left shoe, and the man waved his wand and the shirt looked dirty and threadbare.

"I expect you to do better this time. _Do you understand?_" The father asked in a dangerous voice.

"Yes, daddy." The man left without a second chance and the boy began begging again.

"Do you see?" Uncle Moony asked quietly.

"Yeah. I guess there's not much we can do for him – can't keep his father from him, can we? But some of them are for real?"

"Most of them are, at least. Again, here's not much we can do to help. A few sickles won't change anything. The problem is that we're still rebuilding. It will take more than a few years to recover from the war. We're here." Uncle Moony motioned to an old building full of books. They stepped inside, and Uncle Moony began asking the owner questions. Harry wandered around the store for a bit among the musty tomes, but soon found himself incredibly bored. Harry had never been one for reading.

After what felt like years, but Harry was willing to concede that it was only days, they stopped talking and Uncle Moony began searching through the stacks of books. Harry tried examining his wand or reading his DADA book, but eventually gave up and flopped on the floor. The bookshop owner scolded him, and he went off to sulk about how unfair it was that he got stuck in here.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and Harry decided to wait outside for Uncle Moony. Diagon Alley was very interesting, and he would go back in in a few minutes. Uncle Moony would never even notice that he left the bookshop.

Harry sat down on the doorstep, surveying the scene. Shoppers traveled through the streets, and Harry watched them, hoping to see another student beginning at Hogwarts. He didn't find anyone, but watching everyone pass by was still interesting.

Harry liked to watch how normal people acted, studying their movement and speech. A little girl with blonde hair in pigtails was complaining about eating a broccoli-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, and her older sister was telling her that it served her right for stealing candy. A woman wearing pink robes with white fur on the sleeves was shaking her pink hat upside down, out of which several large rocks, way too big to fit, were falling. Another woman with white hair and blue robes was walking around with her eyes closed, bumping into people left and right. A brown owl flew overhead with a message, causing owl droppings to fall onto a boy of about twelve who screamed in fright.

Little did he know, one of the beggars on the street had been sneaking closer to him, slowly but surely creeping up to the doorstep. Harry only noticed when he felt a prickling on the back of his neck and spun around. A man was standing at the side of the building next to the steps up to the door. He had long, uncut greasy black hair and sallow skin. He was carrying a bottle in his left hand, and from the way he walked he was very, very drunk.

The man grabbed him, causing Harry to shriek, but everyone on the street just ducked their head and hurried on, pretending not to notice. Most people knew that if you wanted to keep your possessions and your life, you minded your own business. Harry was pressed up against the building, eyes darting left and right, searching for an escape route. He should never have come out here alone.

"You look like _him_." The man said, pushing Harry against the side of the building. His breath smelled like fire whiskey and his eyes were afire with hatred.

"What –" Harry asked panicking. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"But you have _her _eyes." Harry squirmed, trying to run, to fight, to live. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. The wolf was taking over, and Harry couldn't let it. Everything was going in and out of focus, and Harry was completely unable to think clearly. He needed to get out of here right – _right now_!

"Help!" Harry cried. The door burst open and the strange drunk man was thrown off of him with a blast from a spell. Uncle Moony ran over to Harry immediately, hugging him.

"Are you alright? Harry, are you alright? Speak to me!"

"Fine." Harry croaked. "Just – get – off – can't – b – b – b – breathe!" Uncle Moony let go and Harry was finally able to inhale again. "I - I'm fine." He reassured Uncle Moony immediately. Reassuring Uncle Moony was instinct by now. "W-w-who was th-that?"

"I don't know." Uncle Moony said, although his eyes indicated that he was lying. "I didn't have a chance to see him. I was worried, Harry. You can't just run off like that!"

"I-I'm sorry." Harry said, still looking around. But the man was gone. The only thing remaining was the odor that Harry could still smell. _That_ wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Slowly, he collected his thoughts and took deep breaths until he could speak normally. "Really, I'm sorry for going off like that. I should have stayed in the shop."

"Yes, you should have." Uncle Moony sighed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Really." He added at Uncle Moony's skeptical look. "It was scary, and he was saying something weird, but I'm not hurt at all."

"Well, it's your birthday today, so I am not going to try to punish you. Have you learned your lesson?" Harry nodded. "We're going home – I got what I needed." They began to walk back to the Apparation spot. "By the way, what was the man saying?" Uncle Moony asked curiously.

"He said I looked like him but I have her eyes. I mean, I've been told that about my parents before. Did he know my parents?" Uncle Moony, lost in thought, didn't respond. Harry nudged him. "Uncle Moony, did he know my parents?"

"What? Oh, maybe. I don't know who it was." Harry frowned. Uncle Moony was a horrible liar, but he always, always stuck with his story. You could never catch him off guard and he always kept his responses consistent.

"Really?"

"Yes, Harry. I don't make a habit of knowing everyone in the Wizarding World." Uncle Moony said. Harry decided to drop it, and anyway, he couldn't really think of anything after the sickening Apparation. They arrived at the Apparation spot and walked into the village from there. When they reached their cottage, Harry reached towards the wooden door…

"SURPRISE!" Harry grinned as his eyes took in the room. Most of the villagers had come, and there were sparkling gold letters in the air spelling "Happy Birthday Harry!" Lanterns with animated lights in the form of different animals floated throughout the room. On the table was a big cake that Jenna had likely made with some help from Amber Gretchen, and beside it was a long package wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper.

After being congratulated on his birthday twenty-three times, Harry was convinced to cut the cake. It was delicious, and it vanished astonishingly fast. Then it was time for Harry to open his present. He carefully pealed back the wrapping paper to find a broomstick – and not just any broomstick either. He had been pretty certain that they were getting him a broomstick to use in Broomstick Maneuvering Class, but he had thought that it would be a Shooting Star or similar broom. It would be pretty much the same as the school brooms they gave to Muggleborns, but it would at least be his.

This, though, was a Nimbus 1700 – one of the fastest brooms made and a top battle broomstick. Sure, it was secondhand, and the Nimbus 2000 was even better, but this was a really good broomstick. How had they managed to afford this? Harry pushed aside his worry, though. He had a broomstick, and feeling bad about it wouldn't earn any money back. He smiled and ran over to Uncle Moony to hug him. "Thanks!" He yelled. Then he hugged each of the villagers who would let him, thanking them for their contributions. He wouldn't normally do anything like that, but today he was completely and utterly happy.

"You're acting like you're drunk!" Jenna teased. Harry just smiled and looked at his new broomstick. He couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts and show his classmates what he could do. That's right, he was going to stop at nothing to prove that werewolves could be heroes. _And_, with his new broomstick and wand, he was going to be the best battlemage _ever_.

**Please read and review! I would love your feedback! Thank you to Qtelatino1, Snake D'Morte, animikiikaa, nsaifnabi, and skyjadeprincess for favoriting this story. **


	4. Chapter 3: Diagon Alley Part 2 (HG)

**Another super long AN coming up. I had to attempt to recreate the money system, but I had to change the costs of everything in cannon to follow the conversion that J.K. Rowling gave. I used the Harry Potter Wiki for this story, so there's $6.64 (US dollars) per Galleon.**

**I know nearly nothing about money, but when I looked it up, people spend about $230 spent on textbooks per semester. On average, each textbook will be $30, since paper is easier to manufacture in the wizarding world. There are 8 textbooks, so the first-year textbooks combined cost about $240. I know some textbooks can cost hundreds of dollars, but again there are massive production costs in there and I'm doing my best to keep this as simple as possible. I'm going to assume a wand is about $300, the price of a cheap iPhone. This is likely enough for Ollivander to live on, especially if the government helps to pay for wands. Online, it costs about $25 for Hogwarts robes as a Halloween costume. The students need 3 sets. These are easier to manufacture due to magic, but they also have extra spells and enchantments on them.**

**Dragon hide gloves sound like they'll probably cost at least $25. A cauldron will be $50 at least. A telescope is cheaper due to magic, but it's still at about $100. The glass/crystal phials will be about another $50, and the brass scales will be at approximately $50. The winter cloak will be another $30, since it should be more expensive than the Hogwarts robes. A hat adds another $15.**

**Combined, this means school supplies cost **_**at least**_** $935 (774.93 Pounds), which is insane as far as I know. I'm not in college yet, but middle school (I suppose in Britain it's called something different, but I mean the school one goes to at 11) supplies only cost a hundred or two dollars at most. It's about 140 Galleons. For this, I will use the following values (they differ from cannon, but I don't want to calculate how much each Galleon is worth from the confusing costs):**

**Wand at Ollivanders: 45 Galleons**

**Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black): 3 Galleons and 13 sickles each (11G, 5S total)**

**One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear: 2 Galleons 4 Sickles**

**One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar): 4 Galleons**

**One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings): 4 Galleons 9 Sickles**

**Textbook (On Average): 4 Galleons 10 Sickles**

**1 Cauldron: 7 Galleons 9 Sickles**

**One Set of Glass or Crystal Phials: 7 Galleons 8 Sickles**

**1 Telescope: 15 Galleons**

**1 Set of Brass Scales: 7 Galleons 9 Sickles.**

**Total: 141 Galleons and 5 Sickles ($938.2 or 777.54 Pounds – 359.99 Pounds in 1991)**

**I know it's different from cannon, but I worked really hard on it. Please be nice. Also, I'm changing around some of the dates of birth with the older characters to form 4 time periods of important characters: 1940s when Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts, Marauders era, current era (where the main characters are in Hogwarts), and the next generation era (from epilogue).**

**If you really don't like the wand price, pretend that the government payed for a lot of wand costs before, but can't afford that after the increased war time.**

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the Harry Potter Universe, or else I would be able to buy a computer that consistently connects to Wi-Fi.**

Hermione stood with Professor McGonagall in front of the red brick wall. It seemed rather inconvenient for this to be the only way into Diagon Alley – imagine if Tom started charging money to use the entrance. The professor tapped a select brick thrice with her wand, and the bricks began to rearrange themselves into an archway. Hermione stepped through, and was immediately overcome with a thousand different strange sights, noises, and smells.

It wasn't particularly bright or busy, but everything was moving. Most buildings were only a single story high, likely because that had been the quickest way to rebuild them after the war. Splashes of bright color lit up the atmosphere, though, preventing it from becoming too gloomy. "First," Professor McGonagall explained, "we shall go to Gringotts to exchange your money."

"Is that some sort of bank?" Hermione asked, tearing her eyes away from a bookshop.

"Yes. Gringotts is run by the Goblin Nation. It is one of the few buildings in Diagon Alley that was not destroyed in the war." Professor McGonagall stopped outside of a huge building made of marble. Hermione whispered the poem to herself as they stepped into the bank and shuddered.

A large granite counter was at the far end of the room, with seven goblins sitting behind it. At each station was a large sign: there were _Muggle and Foreign Money Exchange, Artifact Negotiations, Quick Withdrawals, Consultations and Investments, Inheritance, Vault Setup, _and _Vault Withdrawals_. Under them were what looked like translations into French, German, and several languages that Hermione did not recognize. Professor McGonagall lead Hermione over to the exchange station, where she handed in her 420 pounds over to the Goblin, who gave her what he said was the equivalent of 399 pounds back in galleons. She had 174 galleons and 13 sickles and 25 knuts exactly, which Professor McGonagall said was more than enough to buy her school supplies.

First, they went to Ollivanders to buy her wand. They stepped into the wand shop and Hermione heard a small bell ring. Mr. Ollivander rode a ladder from the back of the shop, which he leaped off of. "Ah, it is always wonderful to see new students, off to seven years of a magical education at Hogwarts…" He said wistfully.

"Five years." Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Are you not a new student? Did you move here?" Mr. Ollivander asked, somehow managing to hear her.

"I'm going to leave after I take my O.W.L.S." Hermione explained.

"Not very academically inclined?" He asked, as his animated measuring tape began to dance around.

"No, I want to go back to the Muggle world and be a scientist there."

"Why ever would you want to be a little Muggle scythe-itis?" Mr. Ollivander asked curiously, scribbling down notes on a roll of parchment that was magically held up in the air.

"Scientist, and I'm not going to even try to explain it to you." Hermione said. "You wouldn't understand."

"Ah, yes, the dreams of youth." Mr. Ollivander said patronizingly. "Muggleborn?"

"Yes. Does it matter?" Hermione challenged.

"No, of course not." He said. "It simply makes the wand fitting easier if I am able to have a starting point in the form of your parents' wands."

"Oh." Hermione said, deciding not to press the issue of her career dreams further. "That makes sense. But why do we need a specific wand?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, or in your case, the witch. Each of my wands has a magical core, Miss Granger, and magical wood, along with runes, a design and a precise length. All of these factors together decide how a wand channels your magic. They form the frequency, which we must match to your own magical frequency." He explained.

"That sounds interesting. Is there a book on it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Wand lore is a closely guarded secret, but you should be able to find some basic information on it in Flourish and Blotts." He suggested.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." She said as he passed her a wand.

"Unicorn tail hair with willow, extremely bendy. Give it a wave." He encouraged. The wand had a flower design on it and felt (a kind of vibrating, tingling feeling, sort of like the frequencies that Mr. Ollivander had mentioned) like Earth to Hermione, although she wasn't quite sure why or how. The second she picked it up, Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand. "Definitely not."

Next, he took out a reddish-brown wand, simple-looking, with tiny runes around the base. The wood was smooth and beautiful. "Acacia and phoenix feather." Hermione gave it a little flick, and Mr. Ollivander took it away. "Close." He said quietly.

"Perhaps…fir and dragon heartstring, unyielding." He passed Hermione a stiff, tan-brown wand with runes drawn all over it. She flicked it, and one of the windowpanes shattered.

"Sorry!" She squeaked.

"No matter." Mr. Ollivander quickly repaired it and passed her the next wand, a brown one with a vine-like pattern winding upwards. "Vine and dragon heartstring." Hermione waved it, and she felt like there was something pushing out, trying to get through, but it died down. "No, maybe once, but this wand is not for you."

"Pine may be the one. Pine, pine, pine..." He muttered, searching the shelves for the next wand. "Pine and dragon heartstring, good for nonverbal magic." He said, handing her another wand. Hermione waved it, and he snatched it out of her hands. "No, no…" He began to search again.

"How did you know it would be good for nonverbal magic?" Hermione asked.

"A good scholar of wand lore knows the strengths and weaknesses of each wand. Hmm. Maybe…ah, we shall try this one next." Mr. Ollivander said, handing her another wand, this time made of a rich brown wood. Hermione felt some sort not-sound from it, and it gave the impression as if it simply wasn't there and would channel anything through it. Runes were carved in a spiraling pattern up the wand. "Walnut and dragon heartstring." Hermione flicked this wand too, and several books rose off the desks and floor, beginning to spin around. She smiled, and set the wand down on the desk. "Yes. This is your wand, Miss Granger. Use it well." He seemed to be on the verge of saying something.

"What does the wand mean?" Hermione questioned.

"Walnut wood seeks highly intelligent witches and wizards, especially innovators and inventors. They possess unusual versatility and adaptability. Dragon heartstring wands learn quickly and have the most power out of any of the three cores. This wand will perform anything you desire of it." Hermione beamed, but Mr. Ollivander continued on. "I must warn you, however, that dragon heartstring is generally the easiest core to turn dark. The walnut wood is not known for its allegiance to the light either. This does not mean that either you or the wand is dark. It simply means that the wand has the potential to turn."

"I remember every wand I have sold, Miss Granger." Mr. Ollivander told her. "It seems not yesterday that a very gifted young girl came into this shop. She, too, received a walnut wand with a dragon heartstring. And she, too, promised that she would be careful and use it well. You would not know her, but this girl became Bellatrix Lestrange. I would not advertise the fact that your wand is so similar to hers."

"But –" Hermione said, "I don't know who that is, but I won't ever go dark. I promise. Most of the dark side hates Muggleborns like me anyway, from what I heard." She added.

"There is more than one type of darkness, Miss Granger. Take care that you are not led astray." Mr. Ollivander warned.

"I'll be careful!" Hermione promised, worried about the wand. But it hadn't felt evil when she had picked it up. It hadn't felt dark. Hermione would never kill people unless she absolutely had to. _But you added that unless on at the end_, a piece of her mind said_. If you were really a good person, it would be never kill ever. Period._

_Good people have to kill sometimes._ Hermione reminded herself. _If they don't stop the evil guys, so many people will die._ "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." Hermione said, taking the wand reverently and searching for a place to put it.

"You should buy a wand holster." Professor McGonagall recommended. She payed 2 galleons for a black holster that she could strap to her arm and 45 galleons for the wand. It was the most expensive thing Hermione had ever bought in her life. She experimented with it for about a minute, but couldn't figure out how to snap her fingers in order to bring her wand to her hand. Eventually she settled for pulling it out and learning how to snap later. "Thanks for the advice." Hermione said. She was still upset with Professor McGonagall, but her real issue was with Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall was just doing what she was told. She didn't see it as kidnapping. Dumbledore was the one who had told her to do it, though, the one who had said that she was a 'flight risk' and couldn't even say goodbye to her parents in person, the one who had threatened to wipe her parents' memories. Hermione hated Dumbledore, although she knew she couldn't let him figure that out. She had to make him think that she was adjusting perfectly well, for her parents' sake.

"Who is Bellatrix Lestrange?" Hermione asked as she walked with the professor down the street. "Not that I want to emulate her," she said quickly, "but if everyone knows about her and V – sorry, You-Know-Who – I should know too."

"Very well then." Professor McGonagall said as they purchased a cauldron from the smelly potions shop. Hermione's parents had sent her a trunk via regular post, which had somehow ended up in Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had cast a spell on it to make it lighter, and add a bit of extra space. Any more space would require advanced knowledge and a lot of time and effort, so she would have just enough room to cram in a few extra books.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was a Slytherin student who attended Hogwarts along with You-Know-Who. She was a pure-blood supremacist, although at first she seemed rather shy and not at all aggressive. She was from of one of the original 28 pure-blood families, and a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the original Deatheaters, then called the Knights of Walpurgis. Since then, Lestrange has done some incredibly evil things, killed countless numbers of people. She is absolutely loyal to You-Know-Who, and is completely insane. She doesn't care who she hurts, and she loves inflicting pain on others. She is the reason that there is only heir of the House of Longbottom is eleven years old."

"You said is…she's not dead?" Asked Hermione.

"She's in wizarding prison; Azkaban. It's guarded by dementors, who are the exact opposite of the Patronus Charm that Professor Dumbledore used to contact your parents. The Patronus Charm is fueled by happy thoughts, but dementors suck all of the happiness and joyous memories out of you. They extinguish light and make you lose the will to live. Dementors can suck out your soul."

"And they _use_ those creatures?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Some people deserve them." Professor McGonagall said, her face twisting into a strange and terrible expression. Hermione resisted the urge to back away. An angry witch could be scary. "Many, many people died in that war. And those people killed them. Bellatrix Lestrange admitted to her crimes in front of the Wizengamot, and laughed when she was told her sentence. She claims that You-Know-Who shall come back from the dead and reward her. Some people deserve Azkaban." Hermione wasn't sure of that. Losing memories of happiness seemed like it could be even worse than death. "Besides, if we don't feed the dementors, they could try to escape and feed on us." So the wizarding world routinely sacrificed criminals to evil creatures, and it though the _Muggle_ world was backwards.

"Well, it's my wand," Hermione said. "And Mr. Ollivander said that the wand itself isn't dark, just that someone bad could use it. But I'm going to use it to fix the Wizarding World." Hermione said that to give the impression that she was accepting this world on her own, and wanted to bring about positive change in the society that she was planning to live in. But even as she said it, she wondered if that might be a worthy goal. Maybe she could do something to help the world.

After all of her purchases, Hermione had 23 galleons and 4 sickles remaining, since she had purchased some parchment and quills. She looked around Flourish and Blots for good books to spend her remaining money on, and eventually picked out _Hogwarts: A History_; _Analyzing the Wizarding Government from and Outside Perspective_; _A History of the War Against You-Know-Who_;_ A Basic Explanation of the Mind Arts: Animagi, Occlumency, and Legilimency_; _Notable Wizarding Achievements of the Past Few Centuries_; _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2_; _Technomancy: A New Field of Research_; and _A Guide to Wizarding Culture in Britain and France_.

"That's a lot of books." Professor McGonagall commented.

"You can never have enough books." Hermione told her seriously.

"I do believe that I must place my bet on you being in Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw's the smart ones, right?" Hermione asked. "And the teachers seriously have a betting pool on who goes to what house?"

"Yes, and of course not."

"I see." Hermione said. "What am I going to do for the next three weeks?"

"You can read your textbooks, and those…seven, is it?" Hermione nodded. "And those seven other books. You can learn Wizarding games, of course, but there won't be anyone to teach you. I suppose you _could_ get an early start on studying."

"But…we're not allowed to cast spells when school is not in session, are we?" Hermione asked cautiously. She couldn't believe that a teacher was telling her to break the rules.

"I believe the proper wording is 'outside of school'." Professor McGonagall said. Hermione paused for a second, thinking. Normally, strict Professor McGonagall would never advocate for bending the rules. Maybe this was some sort of apology. Nothing could ever make up for what Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore did, but perhaps she was trying. Hermione hated both of them, but again, she hated Dumbledore more.

On one hand, it wouldn't do for Hermione to go making more enemies, and it would be useful to have someone she could ask for information. Perhaps Professor McGonagall could be persuaded to convince Dumbledore to let her return home for Christmas.

On the other hand, Professor McGonagall was likely attempting to convince Hermione to trust her simply so that she could report back to Dumbledore. Anything bad she said about the Wizarding World could and would be used against her.

"But that's not fair," Hermione protested. "The others didn't get a chance to try magic early."

"As a matter of fact, many of them did. Most of the pureblood students have been practicing basic magic for years behind the safety of their parents' wards. The Trace cannot reach them there. In addition, some half-blood students have practiced as well. The Trace is on the child's wand, and to a lesser extent on the child. Many wards will prevent the Trace on the child from activating, and the child can use their parents' wands. Even if the magic is detected, parents are trusted to discipline their children as they see fit."

"So everyone will know magic except for me?" Hermione asked, upset.

"No. Most children will only know theory and how to cast a basic _Lumos_ spell. There are plenty of other Muggleborns such as yourself. I would watch out for some of the purebloods, though. They may know some nasty hexes, although they've never tried them before." Hermione nodded. That was useful information. And it looked like she wouldn't be too far behind. She really did feel bad practicing, though. Maybe if she just learned _Lumos_?

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione said, taking care to smile. This teacher could be useful, and she would stop at nothing to get back home.

**That's it for Chapter 3! Please review with any comments, ideas, or **_**constructive **_**criticism you have. I would still love input as to what House the main characters should be in. I have a tentative idea, but I'm not certain and they keep stepping into one House only to end up acting like another. Thank you so much to Darth Void Sage of the Force, Firey Phoenix01, Qtelatino1, Snake D'Morte, animikiikaa, nsaifnabi, and skyjadeprincess for your support!**


	5. Chapter 4: Diagon Alley Part 3 (NL)

**Since I can't get much truly accurate information on how the Wizengamot works, I think I'm just going to stick with what is generally used in fanfictions here. Most positions are hereditary, a few are elected, and some are filled with certain elected officials. Someone can have multiple votes. For example, Amelia Bones (if she were still alive) would have two votes: one for her position as the head of the DMLE and the other for her position as head of the House of Bones. This is a short one, but the next chapter will definitely be longer.**

Neville kept his hand firmly on the pocket, desperately trying to keep it shut. If his toad, Trevor, managed to escape, then he would be in so much trouble it hurt to think about it. Gran would scream at him for hours on end, and he'd have to write stupid essays about how important respect and polite manners were. Not to mention Gran would return Trevor to the pet shop, or worse, simply kill him and use him as potions ingredients. Neville shuddered.

"…and this is my grandson, Neville, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom." Neville nervously turned to face the girl in front of him. She had long blonde hair that she brushed behind her ears every so often and pretty blue eyes that seemed to be laughing at him. Like him, she was an Heir of a Noble and Most Ancient House, which meant that one day she would be voting on the laws of the Wizengamot. He bowed, not wanting to embarrass himself by going through the whole procedure of kneeling and kissing a girl's hand, which was absolutely disgusting. His grandmother sent him a disapproving look, but he knew that he would mess up far worse before this was over and therefore a small difference in etiquette would go unnoticed.

The Greengrass Heir, Daphne, curtsied back, and Neville wished that he could be talking to her younger sister Astoria, who was so sweet that Neville forgot to be nervous around her. This entire formal meeting felt ridiculous, and Neville knew that his parents would never make him do something like this. They didn't care about Noble and Most Ancient Houses, or money, or manners other than "please" and "thank you", and they certainly would never be forcing Neville to go to a five-hour long dinner party for influential purebloods.

At least he was going to Hogwarts after all. Great Uncle Algie had been so pleased when Neville had gotten his letter that Neville now had a brand-new toad named Trevor despite his grandmother's wishes. This whole thing would be a whole lot more bearable if Neville could just take Trevor out and play with him, but apparently that wasn't polite. Also on the list of non-polite things were eating too much, not eating enough, eating the wrong foods, eating at the wrong time, not talking enough, talking too much, and _breathing too loudly_. (The fact that it was a sigh, not just a loud breath, did not escape Neville, but he did so love to pretend that he had been told off merely for breathing. After all, a sigh was simply exhaling loudly.)

Neville had been looking forwards to seeing Astoria, but she was too sick to come. He'd only met her twice before – once with his parents while they were negotiating for funding during the war (they'd failed), and once last year when his grandmother decided it would be a good idea to have him meet with the Bones Heir and the Greengrass Heir and Astoria had come instead to represent the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass.

Neville suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him. He must have zoned out and not heard a question. "She asked which House you are hoping for." Gran hissed.

"Oh, er…" It wasn't that Neville hadn't thought about it, but he wasn't sure what he actually wanted to be in – as long as it wasn't Ravenclaw. He could even stand Slytherin, since at least there he wouldn't have to answer a riddle to get into the dorms. "I think I want to be in Gryffindor like my parent. Or Hufflepuff, I suppose."

"So you are not considering Slytherin, then?" Asked Lord Greengrass. Neville shook his head. Lord Greengrass looked rather pleased, since that would be one less cunning Lord to fight in the Wizengamot. "Well, I do hope that you choose not to carry on your family's legacy of…consorting with lesser beings." Neville wanted more than anything to leave this conversation, or better yet to shout at Lord Greengrass and his idiotic blood-purist ways. His parents, like the Potters and Prewetts, were progressive purebloods – the type that taught how everyone was equal and that dark magic was bad, not the type that wanted to kill Muggleborns and conquer the world.

"I believe that it is not quite a good idea to offend the legacy of an Heir so early on in the day." Gran told the Lord, raising an eyebrow. Neville wanted to laugh, but that would ruin the effect. "We had best be going now – plenty of people to meet."

"Very well." Gran lead Neville away from the Greengrasses, and he nearly sighed before he remembered the prohibition on it.

"Neville!" Susan Bones nearly shouted, running – no, quickly walking, since running was _definitely _not allowed – over to him. "Nice to see you!" She then wilted under Gran's disapproving stare and curtsied to Neville. This time, simply bowing was actually correct, since he already knew Susan well.

"Are your adoptive siblings here with you?" Neville asked.

"Siblings, and yes. Ron is by the food with Fred and George, but Percy is mingling with the other guests. Ginny's at home, though." Susan explained.

"Fred and George are by the food? This is going to be –"

"They'll behave. They understand the importance of this gathering – especially for Mum, now that she's taken the Prewett seat. Percy'll get that, but Ginny's likely to end up with Weasley, you know, once Muriel goes."

"Really?" Neville asked. "I could understand the Twin Terrors refusing the seat, but Ron? He's likely to take it."

"Nah." Susan said. "He's probably gonna end up taking it for a week, finding it boring, and then quitting. Ginny'll end up with it for sure."

"Not you, though?" Neville asked. Susan shrugged.

"I have Bones, and the Weasleys generally spread inheritance 'round, not just to the eldest. Even if it was offered to me, I'd never take it. Be nice to have Ginny at work with me. Of course, if she _does_ end up doing Quidditch, I'll end up with it anyway. 'less one of my siblings marries someone who'll take the seat." Susan explained.

"I see." Neville said. He didn't see.

"Come along, Neville. There is still the Nott heir to meet." Neville waved goodbye to Susan as he was pulled along towards another influential pureblood.

* * *

The next day, Neville was incredibly surprised that he had made it through the party with minimal scolding. He woke up excited, because he was finally going to get his wand.

After arriving in the Floo at The Leaky Cauldron, Neville lead the way to Ollivanders while Gran fussed with something in her purse. He knew these streets by heart, and somehow they felt even more like home than his Gran's cold, pristine mansion. That was too perfect. Diagon Alley was flawed, true, but that made it even better. Even more _home_.

The bell ringed quietly as Neville entered the wand shop wearing his best robes. Mr. Ollivander was sitting at his desk, writing what looked like a letter. "Ahh, Mr. Longbottom. Good afternoon," he said in his soft voice.

"Good afternoon." Neville replied politely.

"Yes, yes, and good afternoon Lady Longbottom," said the man quietly. "It is good to see you again." Then he paused and began again, rather abruptly. "Elm. Unicorn hair. Fourteen and a quarter inches. Rigid. Sold on January 23rd, 1982 – quite like your previous one, in fact, nearly identical, and that is not something I say lightly. You keep it in good condition, I trust?"

"The very best. But we are here for Neville's wand. I would recommend trying a laurel with dragon heart string – he aspires to be just like his father, you know."

"What one aspires to be and what one is are two very different things." Mr. Ollivander explained. "I believe that it is I who is the wandmaker here, not you. Now, Mr. Longbottom, which House would you like to be in at Hogwarts?"

"Gryffindor, I suppose, but I know that's unlikely. I'll likely end up in Hufflepuff. I'd never be a Slytherin or Ravenclaw, though."

"Very well." Mr. Ollivander said, searching through his piles of boxes until he found a wand that seemed to emit a faint glow, not unlike Gran's wand. It had miniscule runes carved around the base and tip and there was a sphere of wood at the base along with a second sphere to close off the handle. "Maple – and unicorn hair, unusual combination. Thirteen inches. Unyeilding." It was snatched out of Neville's hand the moment he picked it up.

"No, no, no, most definitely not – here, why not? Poplar and unicorn hair, ten and a quarter inches, quite whippy." This was a light brown wood, nearly white, with a darker knot near the base of the wand that prevented the handle from bending too much. It was finely sanded and felt incredibly smooth. Runes and designs were nowhere to be seen. Neville waved it, and nothing happened. "Perhaps not, perhaps not." Mr. Ollivander muttered, whisking the wand away.

"Pear wood and – hmm, dragon heartstring." Mr. Ollivander announced, placing a handsome wand in Neville's hands, it was carved with large runes and had a little pattern of swirls etched into it. He liked the look of it, but it caused boxes from all over the room to shoot out of their shelves with a loud _crack!_ He immediately began to apologize. "No matter, Mr. Longbottom, no matter at all. Well, you are certainly not a squib as you fear, not at all."

"How did you –" Neville asked, astonished. He cut himself off when he realized that no, Mr. Ollivander had not read his mind; it was common knowledge that the Longbottom Heir was nearly a squib.

"Ahh, Larch, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps." He continued to mutter as he searched the shelves for the next wand. Finally, he brought out the box and handed the wand encased within to Neville. "Larch and unicorn hair. Twelve inches and a little bit over. Reasonably supple." Neville's hand fit comfortably into the simple handle of warm wood, and he could not-see the magic traveling up through the wand, bursting, bursting out, wanting to sing –

to sing forth into the air –

of the dusty wand shop –

and clear the dust, and the dirt, and the grime –

away, away! –

away it goes, to who-knows-where –

and everything is clear –

and warm –

and bright –

so bright –

too bright –

the light wanes –

slowly, slowly, slowly –

cautious, slipping away from the wand –

leaving the room –

and the wandmaker –

and the stunned grandmother –

and the boy with the magic –

who holds the light.

Neville smiled like he had never smiled before. The binding had filled him with the elation and un-suppressible joy of the magic pouring forth from his wand, filling the room with light and clearing away the dust and the darkness from every corner of the room. And when the light finally receded, everything seemed brighter now, as if a veil was lifted from the world and he could finally see clearly. Nearly everything seemed to glow just slightly, like the wand from before. His wand glowed too, and Mr. Ollivander's eyes emitted a fluctuating silver light that appeared to be both there and not there at the same time.

"Bravo, bravo, Mr. Longbottom. This is your wand, use it well. Larch wands show a hidden talent – never doubt yourself." He whispered the last part. "Use it well, Mr. Longbottom, use it well."

They left shortly after paying for the wand, Neville thanking Mr. Ollivander enthusiastically. He had a wand. He really was a wizard, not a squib. And he was going to use that wand to do good. Mr. Ollivander seemed to think he was talented. Neville wasn't so sure, but he certainly hoped he was.

So sure, he had to go study stupid pureblood manners when he got home, and sure, he was super bored, but that would change soon. In a few short weeks, Neville would be off to Hogwarts to learn magic with his new wand. And, though he was sure he would lose all certainty later, right now he felt like he was on top of the world and no one could stop him. Neville was going to find his parents, no matter what the cost.

**Please, please, please give me input on the Houses. I've written the Sorting already, and I'll be writing the next chapter now, which depends on their Houses. Thank you for the review, cloakable! And thank you to all the people who have followed and favorited this story!**


	6. Chapter 5: The Hogwarts Express (HG)

**AN: This is the last chance to give me input on which House the characters should be in. Again, I have written a choice out, but it doesn't feel exactly right and I would welcome your help. Please. And I don't want to disappoint everybody with the choice. You don't have to write a review if you want to give me input, you can just PM me or whatever you want to do. ****I will post a list of all the students in Harry, Hermione, and Neville's year after the chapter with the sorting. **

**You know how stories kind of develop sentience and then start running off and doing crazy things when you're least expecting it? Well, Dean Thomas wasn't supposed to be in this chapter at all, but then he sort of just popped up and started talking.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. But that doesn't mean you can copy this story and claim you wrote it.**

**And without further ado, the fanfiction itself:**

Hermione wasn't quite sure why she was leaving Hogwarts to go to Platform 9 ¾, but she had heard Dumbledore say something about "Ah, the value of friendship." She was suffering from extreme nausea because a manipulative old wizard with way too much power thought that she should make friends.

"Would you like me to remain here, Miss Granger, or would you prefer to wait on your own?" Dumbledore asked. Hermione nearly shuddered at having to wait on the platform for another half an hour with only Dumbledore for company – especially because Dumbledore would attempt to talk to her instead of just letting her read.

"I would prefer to wait alone." Hermione said stiffly.

"Very well," said Professor Dumbledore sadly, "I suppose you would like company your own age. Take care of yourself, and stay away from untrustworthy people." He Apparated away. For a brief moment, Hermione considered running, but when she thought about it, she knew she would just get caught. From her books, she had learned that the Ministry could detect accidental magic, and Hermione didn't have control over her powers yet. She wouldn't have control until she got some actual schooling. And besides, if Dumbledore found out that she ran and she didn't get to her parents in time, they would be Oblivated.

So instead, Hermione just attempted to climb onto the train. Attempted being the key word, of course, because her luggage was quite heavy. "I think the stuff's supposed to go over here," a boy with dark skin and curly black hair told her, pointing to a part of the train where "'Cause I met this other boy whose dad was using magic to lift his luggage over there! It was amazing! Are you a Muggleborn too?"

Hermione considered telling him that no, she wasn't. Perhaps she could hide that she was a Muggleborn. But then again, it would be too easy to check with magic. The only Granger she could find was Hector Dagworth-Granger, and there were no Wizarding Puckles.

"Yes," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, who are you?"

"Dean Thomas," the boy said, pausing before shaking her hand. "Sorry to be rude, but I have to check with all the weird rules around here…"

"Yes?" Hermione prompted.

"Wizardsarebigonformalstuffsoshakingyourhanddoesn'tmeanI'mmarryingyou,right?" Dean said, all in one breath.

"What?"

"Wizards are so formal," Dean explained, "so I have to make sure that shaking your hand doesn't mean I'm marrying you or something."

Hermione frowned. "I haven't heard of anything like _that_. Not shaking someone's hand is a grave insult, but I think you just shake someone's hand when you meet them."

"Thanks," Dean said, finally shaking her hand. "I'm sorry."

"It makes sense that you'd check," Hermione reassured him. "Did you know that wizards have betrothal contracts?"

"They do? Wow," Dean said, astonished. He and Hermione loaded their luggage into the luggage compartment, only taking their carry-on bags. It was a lot easier to climb onto the train without their luggage. "I wonder why they don't just have us take them on, y'know? It's hard for us, but not for older kids."

"Perhaps they check the luggage for dark artifacts and stuff like that," Hermione suggested.

"Makes sense."

There was a long pause.

"Would you…would you like to share a train compartment with me?" Hermione asked shyly, before immediately realizing that there was no way a normal boy would want to sit anywhere near a know-it-all, especially a female one.

Instead, Dean just said "Sure!" before climbing onto the train. A lot of compartments had people in them, but they managed to find somewhere empty to sit down.

"I'm a first year here." Dean explained. "You're one too, right? Since you didn't know about the luggage compartment?"

"Yes."

"This place is amazing, right? I mean, I never knew about magic before, and then suddenly Professor McGonagall comes to my house to tell me that I can do crazy things! I didn't believe her at first, but then she told me all about Hogwarts and showed me books and everything! Professor McGonagall made my football player picture move! It's stopped now, but she's really cool. She's head of Gryffindor, I think, just like Headmaster Dumbledore once was! I think I'm gonna be in Gryffindor, what about you?"

Hermione was about to tell him about how horrible Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were, but decided against it. That probably didn't count as best behavior. "I don't like the Wizarding World much," she said carefully, "since it seems like there's a lot of prejudice and bigotry. Like in the Muggle world, except even worse. Not that the Muggle world's good about that either. And they said I have to come until I get my OWLS. So I'm going to work hard so that I can catch up, since everyone probably knows more magic than us, and I'll study Muggle subjects on the side. Then after fifth year I'll go back."

"That must be a lot of work," Dean said. "So you're gonna be a Ravenclaw?"

"I'm not certain." Hermione explained. "Slytherin seemed perfect – I use cunning, and I pride myself on being resourceful. And I want to be a scientist – certainly ambitious. But then I read that they're super obsessed with blood purity. I have trouble making friends, so I'm not a good Hufflepuff, and I don't think I'm brave enough to be a Gryffindor. I want to run away from the Wizarding World when I take my OWLS, not fix it. Though I will do all I can to make things better while I'm here."

"Well, we can still be friends when you're in Ravenclaw and I'm in Gryffindor." Dean offered. "I mean, it's not like we won't have classes together, right?"

"I suppose so." Hermione answered, while she was thinking: _Friends? We're suddenly friends after a few minutes? Well, I guess that's just how boys are. I've never made a friend before, so I wouldn't know, would I? It's never this quick in books, though…_ "We're friends?"

"Sure! I mean, if you want to be."

"O…kay? We can be friends." Hermione said. It felt like she was five again, just asking the kid that she was building a block tower with if he wanted to be friends. And then he said no, because she was weird, and the blocks flew everywhere and she was so, so embarrassed, because it _was_ her fault, even if she didn't know how, and – _Okay, calm down._

"Thanks!" Dean said happily. "At least that's one person who won't be mean."

"Get out," A voice said obnoxiously, as if Dean had jinxed them. Hermione and Dean looked up. A boy with an arrogant expression, blonde hair, and fancy clothing stepped into the compartment. Behind him were a hulking minion who didn't look like he was eleven, a pretty girl with perfect blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, a boy with dark hair and eyes who stayed in the shadows, and a rather tall girl with brown hair and a face that looked like she was disgusted. "This is our compartment."

"Who even are you?" Asked Dean. "And we were here first."

"For your information, _I_ am Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, one of the purest purebloods in all of Britain. And _you_ are _nobody_ – idiotic Halfbloods or Mudblood _scum_." He said with a sneer. Hermione wasn't quite sure what a Mudblood was, but it sounded like an insult. And this boy sounded like a bully.

"Leave us alone!" Dean said loudly. "I don't care about your noblest ancientest blood or your weird made-up words! Get out of here!" Then, "what's a Mudblood?" he whispered to Hermione.

"Some sort of insult." She whispered back, except her whisper was a bit too loud.

Malfoy's face contorted into an even sneerier sneer, if that was possible. "That's what you are – a Mudblood. Your kind don't belong here." Hermione resisted the urge to respond. No matter what, they were the type of people who knew dark curses and she had been warned to watch out for. And there were more of them – five versus two was hardly a fair fight, especially when one of the five looked like a professional child minion.

Hermione stole a glance at Dean, who looked like he was about to punch somebody. "How about we just go and leave you alone – there are plenty of compartments elsewhere." Hermione stepped towards the door, but the enemies – yes, right now these were the enemies – were blocking it. "Please move out of the way," she said calmly.

"I'm going to –" Hermione elbowed Dean. "What?"

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed. Malfoy and the other enemies were watching this exchange with a seemingly-bored expression that hid a calculating look. They might already be preparing to fight, and Dean. Still. Hadn't. Realized.

"I don't think so." Malfoy said, leaning against the compartment wall with his arms crossed. "You see, _no_ one is allowed to insult the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy." Hermione's eyes darted around nervously. This was going to turn into a fight, and she only knew a few spells. She had difficulty learning without a demonstration, just like the books had said she would, and the most difficult ones for her had been the offensive spells. "Crabbe, Nott?" The dark-eyed boy stepped out of the shadows along with the minion boy, and both advanced menacingly.

"We don't need to fight," Hermione said anxiously, still thinking. "Dean and I'll just leave, okay? Sorry to insult you, I just didn't know you're so important."

"_You_," Malfoy said, "are not worthy to even apologize to us. I think Crabbe and Nott here will have to teach you a lesson."

_We're eleven!_ Hermione thought. _Eleven-year-olds don't beat people up, right? Right? And boys don't want to hurt girls, right? I can use that, maybe._ "Look, you wouldn't hurt a girl, right? This society is all about being polite. You can't just attack people who are smaller than you."

Malfoy laughed. "Don't lie to me, Mudblood. Your kind aren't even human." Finally, Hermione got an idea. An idea that she specifically remembered observing as she read her first year Charms textbook but hadn't thought of because she was so frightened.

"Close your eyes." Hermione whispered to Dean.

"What?!" Dean asked, panicking.

"Just do it!" Hermione yelled as the dark-eyed boy got closer to her with his wand raised and a red spell on the tip of it, flickering, being forced out…

"_Lumos!_" Hermione cried, pushing all of her power into the spell, coaxing every last bit of energy forward, thrusting the magic out of her wand, and

LET THERE BE LIGHT!

Everything was bright. Nobody could see for the brightness, the white, the pure magic filling the small compartment and spilling over…

Nott's spell went wide, and the purebloods stumbled, blinded. Hermione froze, so Dean grabbed her arm and pulled her through the crowd of students and into the main train. "Split up!" He said urgently. Hermione finally came to her senses and bolted towards the back of the train while Dean hurried to the front.

Soon, Hermione had to stop to catch her breath, her mind whirling. She opened a compartment door near her. Inside were several girls wearing blue-trimmed robes, giggling. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Hermione asked, barely able to speak.

"Su –," an Asian girl began to say, but one of her friends interrupted her.

"Blood status?" A girl with reddish-blonde hair asked.

"Well, I'm a Muggleborn," Hermione said hesitantly.

"Marietta!" The Asian girl scolded.

"I'm not sitting with a Mud – with a Muggleborn, Cho!" The friend insisted.

The girl who was named Cho turned towards Hermione. "I'm sorry. Nothing against you, but Marietta's my friend, and…" Cho told her apologetically.

"It's fine, I'll be leaving." Hermione stepped out only to see Malfoy and his gang interrogating students in a nearby compartment. She ducked into the bathrooms and peeked around the corner, eavesdropping.

Malfoy stepped into the compartment that Hermione had been in moments before. "Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy." He held out his hand. Marietta shook it and Cho grasped it for a second. The other two Ravenclaw girls shook his hand too, but both looked rather annoyed.

"Marietta Edgecombe."

"Cho Chang."

"Tamora Belby."

"Ella Stimpson."

"Have any of you seen two Mudbloods passing this way? A black boy wearing _muggle _clothing and a bushy-haired beaver girl?"

"Nope." Tamora Belby said. The others shook their heads, but Cho Chang looked disgusted.

"Draco, we should be getting back to our compartment." The tall pureblood girl said quietly. "They must've gone the other way – we'll get them at school."

Malfoy frowned. "Very well, Alicia. Good day, ladies." Marietta Edgecombe giggled as the purebloods left, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. About a minute later, she left the bathrooms and walked a few compartments over into one with two boys that didn't have colors on their robes yet.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said, holding out her hand. "I am a Muggleborn. My parents are dentists. And I like books. If you have a problem with that, tell me now."

There was a pause, and then one of the boys stood up to shake her hand. He had brown hair and brown eyes, carried a toad, and seemed rather nervous. "I'm Neville Longbottom, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom. We're a light House, though – we don't care about nonsense like blood purity. I don't know what a dentist is, but if they don't kill people then that's fine with me."

Hermione smiled slightly. She was finally safe. She could barely believe that she had been in danger by a bunch of bigoted eleven-year-olds. Hermione wouldn't let _that_ happen again. "Dentists…are like Healers, except they specialize in fixing people's teeth."

"Cool." The other boy said. He had bright green eyes and messy black hair. Somehow, he looked both tired and excited at the same time. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Pleasure," Hermione said, taking his hand carefully – it was rather dirty. "May I sit here?"

"Sure," Neville said. "You were late for the train?"

"No," she answered, sitting down. "I got here half an hour early and met another kid but…these other kids wanted the compartment we were sitting in."

"Were they older kids?" Harry asked.

"No…they were first years. But five of them, and it was only me and this boy sitting there. They were purebloods – no offense, Neville – and they realized that we were Muggleborns quickly." Hermione explained cautiously.

"Was it Malfoy and his gang?" Neville asked sympathetically. Hermione nodded. "They're as dark as you get. Him, Nott, Crabbe…were Runcorn and Greengrass there too?"

"I don't know. There was Malfoy. He kept calling us a rude name, it was obviously an insult, but I'm not quite sure what it means, I think my books didn't want to write it. I mean, their authors didn't. Books can't write, of course," Hermione said, getting flustered. Talking to people always did this to her, which was why books were loads better. "And there was this kid who was standing in the shadows – he had black hair and eyes that were nearly black. Then this giant guy who looked like your typical henchman but didn't have colors on his robes, and two girls – one had brown hair and was quite tall and the other had blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes. She looked like she spends hours each day trying to get it perfect."

"What did he call you?" Harry asked. He looked incredibly serious now.

"Not important." Harry was looking frightening, and Hermione felt kind of embarrassed that she was so upset over a bit of name calling. That was all Malfoy had done, really. Of course, he had ordered Crabbe and Nott to attack her and Dean, but that hadn't even worked. And the things about her and Dean she had overheard him say to the Ravenclaw girls – well, it wasn't like she hadn't heard them already at Muggle school. "Was that them?"

"Yeah, that's them." Neville explained. "Theodore Nott was the one with dark hair and Vincent Crabbe was the minion one." He laughed quickly. "Daphne Greengrass has the blonde hair, my gran made me meet her this summer. And the one with the brown hair is Alicia Runcorn." Hermione nodded. "They're all very important in Wizarding society."

"What did he call you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"It's not important."

"He used the m-word, didn't he? Er, 'Mudblood'? Sorry for saying it," Neville said cautiously.

"Yes." Hermione admitted. "But whatever it means, it's not really important. I have more important things to worry about than what gits like him think of me." Both were true. The thing that Hermione was leaving out was that she _did_ care. Even knowing that she shouldn't let bullies get to her didn't stop her from feeling hurt when people were mean.

"I'm going to –" Harry said, his green eyes flashing with rage.

"Harry, calm down!" Neville said quickly. Harry took a deep breath and sat down.

"I'm sorry. My mother was a Muggleborn, you know," Harry told Hermione and Neville. "And I've met Malfoy before – his father is a Deatheater."

"Just because someone has Deatheater parents doesn't mean they'll end up as one," Neville said. "Right now Malfoy's a git, but that doesn't mean he's going to kill and…and torture Muggleborns."

"He's a complete bully," Harry said, "and you know he's going to end up as one. It's only a matter of time."

"I just don't think it's fair to bring his father or his last name is into this. Malfoy is a prejudiced git and deserves to be expelled from Hogwarts. We wouldn't have to deal with him if Karkaroff hadn't run – he would've gone to Durmstrang."

"If Malfoy's father is a Deatheater, how come Mr. Malfoy's not in jail?" Hermione asked cautiously. "Azkaban, right?"

"He said he was under the Imperious curse and that he hadn't done all of those things. It's nonsense," Harry said.

"What's that?"

"It's an Unforgivable – there're three of them," Harry explained looking incredibly upset. "The Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperious Curse. You go to Azkaban for life if you use any. The Imperious Curse is like mind control – they can make you do whatever you want. They can make you betray your family and allies, murder innocent people, commit suicide – anything. Malfoy Senior said that he was under that spell when he was a Deatheater, that he had control. Everybody knows that you can't be forced to take the Dark Mark, but he has money. Lot's of it, for bribes. And connections."

Hermione was listening with a growing expression of horror on her face. "They can control your mind?" She shrieked. "I read in a book that there was mind reading, but that it was incredibly rare, and it refused to say any more. But I never thought that there was a spell that could just – just – I don't even know how to describe that!"

"If you're strong-willed enough, you can fight it," Neville said quietly. "Not many people can, but some are able to. And mind reading is called Legilimency – it's considered quite dark and is forbidden to those who don't have a license. You can defend against it with –"

"Occlumency," Hermione interrupted. "I know that. It's just…that's…they have spells that can wipe your memory too. And if they can read your mind, and then make you do something, and then wipe your memory of it…how do you know that anything is real, that your secrets aren't out in the open, that you haven't committed terrible crimes that you've forgotten! How do you know the difference between your own thought and what someone else wanted you to think? How can you trust anything you think of?"

_I bet Dumbledore uses Legilimency_,Hermione thought. _I bet that's what Voldemort did too, to make sure everybody's in control, and people don't do anything! They don't realize what can be done to them, so they go on being ignorant! Or,_ she realized_, it's not their fault – someone else placed that thought inside their head, and –_

_Calm down!_

"This stuff isn't easy," Neville said. "It's super difficult and you'd probably realize if this was being done to you."

"But we can research it," Harry suggested. "I hear Hogwarts has a giant library."

"It does!" Hermione said, her thoughts instantly leaping to the distraction. "I read in Hogwarts: A History that…"


	7. Chapter 6: The Sorting (All)

**Right, so it's a long chapter this time, over 5000 words (including the ANs)! That's pretty good for me - maybe I'll try a 5000 word one soon. After this I'm going to post a list of every student in their year with some extra information, maybe tomorrow or sometime soon. The last chapter was very difficult to write to a degree that made me satisfied, so I'm not as ahead with the chapters as I'd like to be, so it'll likely be two or more weeks until the next one posts.**

**Cloakable - The ministry hasn't really considered the effects of these new laws, and they haven't had a chance to see their long-term effects yet. A lot of Muggleborns did leave in past years after they graduated and couldn't find jobs, but most of the first and second year Muggleborns haven't been disillusioned with the Wizarding World fully. A lot of Muggleborns are so astounded by the idea that magic exists that they'd be willing to suffer through nearly anything to learn how to use it. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

_Hermione Granger_

The students filed into the Great Hall, gasping when they entered it. The ceiling looked like a window into the heavens – tiny pinpricks of starlight were visible against the velvety black background, forming constellations above the students. Candles floated in midair, emitting a warm glow throughout the room. Polished wooden tables were draped in richly colored tablecloths, and the banners of the four houses were visible throughout the room.

Golden plates and goblets sat shining on the tables, students sitting on the spacious benches and chattering noisily. Silvery ghosts were visible conversing with the students, gesturing wildly. Massive golden statues sat along the alcoves in the walls, and decorations appropriate to one of the four houses hung by every table. The din was deafening, and the Great Hall was magnificent, but somehow it gave the impression of being cozy and welcoming.

The sea of faces suddenly turned in a single direction as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. It seemed that this stool had been through a lot – it was heavily scratched, burned, and even looked like it may have been _chewed _on – but its state of disrepair was nothing compared to the frayed and dirty wizards hat placed on the stool. It was brown, although it may have once been black. The hat had several holes, stains, rips, and even a section where it seemed to have been burned straight through and carelessly patched up. How much of the original hat remained was unclear, but Hermione was pretty sure that there was less than 10% left.

For a few moments, there was a complete silence, the entire room staring at the hat, waiting for something to happen. The air grew more and more tense, until the hat twitch. A rip near the brim of the hat opened wide like a mouth, and then the hat began to _sing_:

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_Many a place with shining walls,_

_Hides secrets to be set free._

_So you can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_Go pretend the world is pretty,_

_Don't heed my song at all!_

_Yet there's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I shall tell you,_

_Just where you ought to be._

_Though no one hears the hat,_

_You all listen to what I say,_

_When I divide your numbers,_

_Split you every which way._

_The Founders gave me a job,_

_Which I perform each year,_

_So sadly it seems that I must,_

_Simply tell you what you want to hear,_

_So you might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've got a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve your ends._

_So I shall sort as I was told_

_Though I've given up on meter and song,_

_And happy sit the masses –_

_Why they'll just go along!_

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. Apparently, horrible amd sarcastic poetry was a form of non-violent protests according to the culture of the sentient hats (though was there actually a culture of sentient hats? Hermione would have to check). Hermione swallowed weakly. A hat reading her thoughts? At least it was unlikely to report back to Dumbledore. It seemed nearly as annoyed as Hermione was at wizarding society.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Professor McGonagall said. "Bones, Susan." A frightened looking girl with red hair that was dirty-blonde at the roots and dark grey eyes stepped forwards, looking determined, and tried on the hat. After about a minute of silence, it proclaimed "HUFFLEPUFF!" And the girl smiled as she went to sit with the students wearing yellow ties, a yellow trim sprouting out of her robes.

"Bulstrode, Millicent." A chubby girl with short brown hair immediately became a "SLYTHERIN!"

"Corner, Michael." A boy with long, wavy black hair stepped forwards cautiously, placing the Sorting Hat on his head. Within a few moments, it shouted "RAVENCLAW!"

Next, "Cornfoot, Stephen," a boy with blue eyes and short black hair stepped forwards to be sorted, and was soon placed in "RAVENCLAW!" Michael clapped him on the back and they sat down together.

"Crabbe, Vincent," the hulking minion boy from the train, became the first male "SLYTHERIN!" Right after him, a girl with light, whispy brown hair and brown eyes named "Davis, Tracey," was sorted into "SLYTHERIN!" too.

After that, "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was called up and became a "HUFFLEPUFF". A boy with curly yellow-brown hair and grey eyes (Goldstein, Anthony) joined "RAVENCLAW!" the second the hat touched his head. Hermione noticed the last names getting closer and closer to hers. She shuddered. As long as she wasn't put in the same House as Malfoy, she didn't much care where she ended up, but she definitely did not want the hat reading her thoughts.

"Goyle, Gregory" took a long time to sort, giving Hermione even more time to worry. Her stomach almost jumped out of her mouth right before Gregory Goyle, because she had thought it was her name. She felt queasy, and her knees felt weak. Oh, how she wanted to go home. But that wasn't an option. That wouldn't be an option for another five years (or less, if she came up with something), and she had better get used to it. Eventually, the boy was sorted into "HUFFLEPUFF!" leading Malfoy to sneer in disgust. Hermione almost smirked, but she was called up next.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione stumbled up to the stool, feeling the entire school's eyes on her. She felt weak and hopeless, wishing more than anything to be curled up in bed reading a good book, full from the excellent mashed potatoes that her father would cook. She sat down hard on the stool, though to be honest, it was more of a collapse.

_It doesn't matter_, Hermione told herself. _It doesn't matter, I'll be out of here as soon as I can anyway, it's not like I'm going to have any fun here no matter what I get._ But even that (predictably) refused to calm her. She looked out at the rest of the school, watching her, and closed her eyes to shut out the glaring lights and hundreds of people staring, just staring at her, watching, whispering, and…

Hermione took a deep breath as the Sorting Hat fell over her eyes, plunging her even deeper into the darkness.

"Ah, what have we here? Another Muggleborn, I see. Where do _you_ want to be placed?"

_Where do I _want _to be placed? I want to be going to a selective boarding school for Muggles and never have learned about this horrible world. Put me wherever, not that it would make a difference._

"I see. You believe that you do not care."

_I _don't_._

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. There are many places to put you – Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, even Hufflepuff if you truly wanted. And yet, I must sort you into only one House."

_Which is ridiculous_, Hermione thought_, because people are more than one trait. Cunning and studious. Loyal and ambitious. Chivalrous and intelligent. Hardworking and brave. _

"True. And yet I must label you. You have sought an accurate label since you first realized you were different – intelligent, antisocial, and now witch, until you find that you are different, separate, even among the strange. So which label shall it be today?"

_Slytherin seemed to fit perfectly – until Professor Dumbledore told me about their obsession with blood purity. I do love books, so I could be a Ravenclaw, I guess._

"But would you be happy in Ravenclaw?"

_No. But it's not like I'd be happy anywhere._

"You may yet find a home here at Hogwarts."

_No._

The Sorting Hat ignored her. "You are correct that you would make a very good Slytherin – certainly cunning, ambitious, and resourceful. And yet, the Slytherins tend to dislike Muggleborns even more than the other Houses."

_Dislike is an understatement. They'd kill me if they wouldn't get caught._

"Not all of them…not all. They are still children."

_Children have fought in wars. Some were even Death Eaters last time – it was only two and a half years ago that it all ended. Fourteen-year-olds have joined cults before. And many of the students here could have killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. I read about it in –_

"Hogwarts: A History. Yes, I know. I know everything." Hermione shuddered – that sounded creepy. "I could put you in Slytherin, couldn't I? But it would be dangerous. So very dangerous. And cause you quite a lot of pain and misery for an uncertain end. Would you do that? Could you do that?"

_I'm not going to stay here. But maybe in this short time…I could change things? Make it better? Five years can make a huge difference. I'm going to be miserable anyway. Going to have to constantly watch my back. Going to make quite a lot of enemies. So put me where you think I'll do the most good – no matter what the cost._

The Sorting Hat seemed to chuckle. "Very well, Hermione Granger. You have shown me who you truly are. And if you are confused, if you regret this day, if you are challenged, remember this: I am putting you where you have the chance to do the most good. For here you can change the world. GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione was stunned speechless as the darkness receded and she could see the bright room again with all the happy students cheering. Gryffindor? Why Gryffindor? She had agreed to Slytherin, hadn't she…hadn't she?

Hermione sat down in an empty seat, pretending to be happy despite her confusion, as the Sorting continued.

* * *

_Neville Longbottom_

Meanwhile, Neville stood next to Harry from the train, trying not to be sick. His parents had been Gryffindors – what if he failed them? What if his Gran thought that he was worthless? What if – "It'll be alright, Neville." Harry whispered encouragingly, ignoring Daphne Greengrass become a SLYTHERIN! after some consideration. "My Uncle fought with your dad and the rest of the crowd, and he said that he was very brave."

That didn't help at all. Just another standard to be held up to, and Neville definitely didn't need more of those. "Hopkins, Wayne" went to HUFFLEPUFF!, and Neville risked a whisper while the others were applauding. "Everyone says that. Was. My dad _is _very brave." He insisted. Maybe Neville would get lucky – there had been no Gryffindor boys up until this point.

"But I thought –" Harry fell silent. "Sorry. My Uncle said your dad's very brave."

"I'm probably going to end up in Hufflepuff." Neville said sadly.

"And if you do, you will become an amazing Herboligist and rescue your parents. Amelia Bones was a Hufflepuff." Neville nodded, somewhat reassured. He wanted his parents to be proud of him when he finally found them, but maybe they wouldn't mind so much if he was a Hufflepuff. "Li, Sue" walked confidently up the stage, and was surprisingly sorted into "RAVENCLAW!"

"Longbottom, Neville!" Neville walked forwards, pausing nervously on occasion, until he had reached the stool. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the hat and placed it carefully on his head.

"Ah," a small voice whispered, "nervous, eh?"

_Yes._ Neville was certain that he would be stuttering if he had to speak, but in his mind, sentences always came out right, for a change. _I want to be in Gryffindor. Please?_

"And why is that? I could not see you in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, true –"

_That's cause I'm not smart. You can say it, you know. Everyone does._

"Why, why are you so determined to feel sorry for yourself? You do not seem stupid to me, but you most certainly will be if you keep this up."

_I thought you were supposed to sort, not give out advice about things you don't understand._

"Very well – you want a house? I shall give you one if you stop interrupting me with self-deprecating comments, understand?"

_Er, yes?_

"Good. So, a strong interest for Herbology and magical creatures. You are loyal to a fault, yet despite what you think, you are brave. You could do well in Hufflepuff, and you would have friends. But you also belong in Gryffindor. You have a spark of bravery inside of you, and Gryffindor would help to kindle that spark."

_So where will you put me?_

"It comes down to this, Neville Longbottom: it matters not where I place you, but where you choose to go. If you wish to belong in Hufflepuff, you will find countless friends there, and support. You will slowly grow as a person. Perhaps you would become a Herbologist, or maybe even an Auror. In Hufflepuff, you would work hard, but you would do well. You would be happy there, though not completely fulfilled. You would be content."

_Then put me in Hufflepuff._

"But," the Sorting Hat continued, "if you wish to belong in Gryffindor, you will also find friends, though less. No, you will not be happy there, at least for now. You will struggle, and have to work incredibly hard. You may end up wishing that you had chosen differently, in the coming years, if you take this path. But you will have a chance to fulfill you dreams, to accomplish all that you wish. It will be difficult – perhaps unbearably so – but if you persist, you may yet succeed. You will need all the bravery that you have."

There was a pause.

"By choosing your House, you will choose your life – defining which House you truly are. This is a choice I cannot make for you – it is yours alone."

_That's a lot of pressure for one kid. Do you know anything else?_

"I am no seer, but I have seen the minds of many children under my brim. You seek to choose the right answer, but this is not a good method. Both are right, but for different people. Which are you?"

Neville thought for a moment, his mind filled with endless possibilities. He wanted to find his parents so badly. That had been his only goal since he was seven years old. It was his identity. It was who he was. And now he was being told that in order to be happy, he would have to give that up. His parents would remain alone, forgotten, imprisoned wherever Bellatrix Lestrange had left them. How could he choose? True, it was tempting. He wanted friends. He didn't want to fight, or to go through hardship, all because of a single word.

But it was more than the word, wasn't it? If he chose to work hard, to do well, and to be content, then he would belong in Hufflepuff – although that didn't seem entirely fair. Hufflepuffs had heroes too. But the Gryffindors were defined by their bravery. If he chose to take the hard, nearly unbearable path, then he would define himself by that very bravery that lead him to make his choice.

It wasn't all that hard now, although Neville was certain he would end up regretting it. He wanted more than anything to find his parents. He wanted more than to just be "content". _Gryffindor._

"And why is that?"

_You just explained why._

"Prove to me that you aren't choosing it just because you think you should."

_I – I want to save my parents_, Neville explained to the hat, trying not to cry, _and I can't do that if I'm perfectly happy the way things are. Friends sound nice, but you said I'd have them in Gryffindor too. You only really need a few, good friends. More than anything, I want to find my mother and father, to rescue them. There's only one path for that, isn't there?_

Neville could swear that he felt the Sorting Hat mentally smile. "Is that your choice?"

_Yes._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville staggered off to his table, just barely remembering to put the hat back on the stool. His face turned red with embarrassment even thinking of what would have happened if he hadn't remembered. He sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione Granger, the girl he had met on the train. She seemed nice, if a bit strange and confusing.

* * *

_Harry Potter_

Harry clapped for Neville as the boy sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry was certain that he would have been a Hufflepuff, but maybe this would mean that they would be in the same house. He certainly hoped so – Neville seemed trustworthy and kind. If he discovered Harry's secret, he would be unlikely to tell. At least, that's what Harry told himself.

"Macmillian, Ernest." A pompous boy stepped up to the platform and was sorted rather quickly into "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Draco!" The boy with blonde hair strutted up to the platform. The hat hadn't even touched his head when it screamed "SLYTHERIN!" Harry sighed. Well, he hoped that he wouldn't end up in Slytherin, then.

"Nott, Theodore" became a Slytherin, and "O'Connor, Margaret" became the second Gryffindor girl. "Owens, Leanne!" A rather tall girl with black hair and brown eyes walked nervously up to the stage, eyes darting left and right. She was sorted extremely quickly into Hufflepuff. Next, a girl named "Runcorn, Alice" became a Ravenclaw. She seemed rather disappointed.

Harry was beginning to feel really nervous – they had likely reached the Ps. Sure enough, "Perks, Sally-Anne" was called up. A small girl with blonde hair and brown eyes who looked like she was crying had to be coaxed up to the stage by Professor McGonagall. When Harry Potter was finally called up to the stage, he forced himself to keep mechanically walking forwards despite panicking inside. The hat dropped over her eyes and Harry was in darkness.

"Hmm," he could hear the Sorting Hat's voice whisper, "Difficult. Very difficult group this year. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. You are loyal and care much for others as well. There's talent – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…so where shall I put you?"

Harry felt like he was an option on a menu that the Sorting Hat was considering. It sounded like it took great pleasure in examining his personality and comparing it to ideals.

"That's right, I always enjoy a good puzzle. And you certainly are one of those." Harry shuddered. "Now…where to go, where to go…"

_Gryffindor._

"Ah, you seek to join the House of the brave. Interesting. You seem to be very worried about fitting in – perhaps you could benefit from Hufflepuff. You would find supportive friends there."

_But am I really a Hufflepuff?_

"Perhaps, perhaps. You seek to be great, you know. Slytherin could certainly help you on your way to greatness."

_I would prefer Gryffindor, though. I don't want to end up in the same House as Malfoy, or the same House that would try to figure out all my secrets. I can't risk that._

"And you also wish to be in the same house as the heroes you admire."

_I suppose. But I guess you should put you where you want to – I can't really stop that. Put me where I belong._

"You have a chance to do good, Harry Potter. Do not waste it. I shall put you in GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was shouted out to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table before sitting down next to Neville.

Only a few people were left to be sorted now. A brown-haired pureblood named "Alicia Nott was quickly sorted into "RAVENCLAW" but looked quite disappointed. "Thomas, Dean" was Sorted into "GRYFFINDOR!" and sat down next to Neville. "Turpin, Lisa!" A small girl with neat brown hair tucked behind her ears stepped up to the stool and became a "RAVENCLAW!" Finally, "Weasley, Ronald" became a "GRYFFINDOR!" within seconds. Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

* * *

_Hermione Granger_

Dumbledore stepped to his feet, and beamed at the students, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Welcome," he said with his voice echoing within the now-silent Great Hall, "to a new year at Hogwarts! You have come here to fill your minds with knowledge, no matter what you may think, and Hogwarts shall provide a place where you can receive that knowledge. Remember – Hogwarts shall always provide help to those who ask for it. Thank you!" He sat back down as everybody clapped and cheered. Hermione reluctantly clapped her hands together, though unenthusiastically.

Food of all sorts appeared on the dishes in front of the students. Hermione helped herself to some potatoes and began peppering Neville with questions about the classes. "I'm most excited for Transfiguration, I think, although Charms and Astronomy sound really interesting. In fact, Astronomy is the only subject here where a lot of the knowledge can then be applied to Muggle knowledge, so it's really helpful. If I ever take Muggle Astronomy, I won't have to study as much. So I really am looking forwards to Astronomy." After reviewing her textbooks, Hermione had decided that magic was quite interesting, even if science was better. Her classes be slightly fun, but she still wanted to go back home, especially after what had happened on the train. And the bigoted idiots that ran the wizarding world would make every other moment of her life miserable for her. "Which class sounds the best to you?"

"Er…" Neville trailed off.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted.

"IreallylikeHerbologyandCharmsbutmyGransaysthoseareforidiotsandIshouldlikeDADAlikemydad."

"Huh?"

"I-I like Herbology and Charms but my…my Gran says that those are stupid and I s-should l-like DADA like my d-dad."

"Oh. Well, I don't think Charms and Herbology are stupid. Not everybody likes to fight people. And what does your dad say about them?" Hermione asked. Neville immediately looked upset and started looking down at his food sadly. "What? Did I say anything wrong? Is your Dad sick or something?" Neville looked even worse.

Something clicked in her head. "You're the heir of the House of Longbottom!" She gasped. Neville nodded slowly. "Professor McGonagall told me that Bellatrix Lestrange killed your – parents…" She trailed off only now realizing that she probably should have just dropped it.

"My parents aren't dead." Neville said, now glaring at her. "They're still alive, and I am going to find them."

"Sorry – really, I'm sorry!" Hermione said quickly. "I didn't know!"

"Well, it's never a good idea to bring up somebody's parents when you _know_ he lives with his Gran." Harry said. "Someone as smart as you should know that it's really insensitive."

"I didn't think –"

"Exactly." Hermione hmphed and began to eat. She didn't want to keep arguing on the first night. It wasn't _fair_, though. She hadn't remembered that, and Neville had never said that he lived with his Gran. He just talked about her a lot – for all she knew, his Gran could just live nearby and visit often. But no, that rude boy had just called _her_ insensitive! As if! Boys were the insensitive ones. Hermione got up and sat in the empty space next to Margaret O'Connor.

"That does look good." A ghost in a ruff said sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you – ?" Hermione asked.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington at your –"

"I know who you are!" Margaret said suddenly. "My sister told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –" the ghost began stiffly, but Dean Thomas interrupted.

"_Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?" Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed.

"I'm sure he meant no disrespect, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpinton." Hermione called from across the table. She didn't want the ghost to get angry at them.

"Porpington, and like this." Sir Nicholas sighed in exasperation and seized his left ear. He pulled and his whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulders as if it was on a hinge. He looked pleased at the stunned looks on everyone's faces.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the deserts appeared. As everybody reached forwards and loaded their plates with their favorites, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm a half-blood." Margaret said, picking at her Jell-O curiously. "My Grandma's a Muggle, and my Grandpa's a Muggleborn." She had an Irish accent and orange-red hair.

"I'm a pureblood, I suppose, but I'm not like _them_. Weasley's don't believe in blood purity. Still, everyone in my family's a wizard except a second cousin who's an accountant. Except, we never talk to him."

"Why ever not, Ronald?" Hermione asked curiously. They had said they didn't believe in blood purity.

"Ron, not Ronald, and he's real boring." Hermione nodded, happy that there were at least two more people there who wouldn't be likely to care that she was a Muggleborn. "What about you…er, Longbottom?" Ron asked.

"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My parents – it's fine, Harry – didn't push me to show any magic, but when I went to live with my Gran my Great Uncle Algie was the worst. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned. I didn't show any magic until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came 'round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidently let go. But I bounced." Hermione was horrified.

"They _do _that?" Dean also looked upset, and Hermione was pretty sure that he was a Muggleborn too. "Wow, the Wizarding World is really backwards."

"Most people don't do anything like that," said Margaret soothingly. "It's only a few of the really rich purebloods." Hermione smiled at the thought of someone hanging Malfoy out the window before feeling bad. She was supposed to be one of the good guys! "Neville's an heir – but it's still surprising that someone would do something like that."

"Oh. Still, though." Hermione said, and began talking to Percy Weasley, a Gryffindor Prefect, about lessons. He was explaining how History of Magic was one of his favorite subjects, but that the teacher was horrible.

At last, the deserts disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes looked over towards two Gryffindor boys with red hair. "I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – Professor Aslanov."

A large, muscular man with pitch black eyes stood up and sat around almost immediately, his expression remaining completely unchanged.

"And now – crepuscular, whorl, cerebral, anthropomorphic! Good night! Off to bed!" Dumbledore clapped his hands, causing the food to disappear off of the tables, and Hermione followed Percy Weasley and the other Gryffindor Prefects up to the dormitories.

Hermione wondered if he had actually done that or if it had been prepared to give him the illusion of immense power.

Either way, she was going to research all of those weird words in case he was actually giving the whole school massive hints.

* * *

**Aslanov is actually a Russian surname, I looked it up to make sure I didn't just choose a stereotypical name that had no basis in reality. I have nothing against the other Houses that I didn't choose/the characters chose not to be in them, but I had to decide on something. Please review!**


	8. Cast of Characters

**This is my list of all first-year students in 1991-1992 by House for the TPTNW series. Please note that it is different for my other fanfictions. I have a similar version of this with extra information that I deleted, since some of it may be important reveals later. This has the list of students separated into male/female by House and includes what the other students believe their blood status and appearance are. Just because I say it here does not mean it's true, but it is what is accepted in the story as of now. Some purebloods are marked minor purebloods, which means that they are just barely a pureblood – some of their great-grandparents are not magical. If someone has H marked in parentheses following a House, that means they are the heir. Only their parents' last names' Houses are mentioned, or else this would be way too long. Noble means that they have a Wizengamot Seat, Ancient means that they are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.**

**Hufflepuff**

Justin Finch-Fletchley – Auburn hair and brown eyes, with large bushy brown eyebrows. Muggleborn. Parents: Barbara and Robert Finch-Fletchley.

Gregory (Greg) Goyle – Dark brown hair and brown eyes. Pureblood. _Noble House of Goyle (H)._ Parents: Rodney (dead) and Elaine Goyle.

Wayne (Way) Hopkins – Brown hair and green eyes. Halfblood. Parents: Michael and Laura Hopkins. Siblings: Jayden Hopkins (3rd Year)

Ernest (Ernie) Macmillian – Blonde hair, rather tall. Pureblood. _Noble and Most Ancient House of Macmillian. Noble and Most Ancient House of Burke._ Parents: Ephraim and Cornelia Macmillian

Susan Bones – Dirty-blonde hair that she dyes Weasley red and dark grey eyes. Pureblood. _Noble House of Bones (H)._ Parents: Jason (dead) and Teresa Bones (dead). Siblings: Weasleys (adoptive)

Sally-Anne Perks – Blonde hair in two thin braids and brown eyes, especially small. Muggleborn. Parents: Elizabeth and David Perks. Siblings: David Perks Jr. (8 yrs) and Grace Perks (6 yrs)

Leanne Owens – Especially tall, with black hair and brown eyes. Halfblood. Parents: Allie (dead) and Clark Owens. Siblings: Joe Owens (19 yrs)

**Ravenclaw**

Michael Corner – Long, wavy black hair and brown eyes. Halfblood. Parents: Melissa (presumed dead) and Ryan Corner. Siblings: John Corner (4th year)

Stephen Cornfoot – Short black hair and blue eyes. Minor pureblood. Parents: Mary (dead) and Roger Cornfoot.

Anthony Goldstein – Curly light brown hair and grey eyes. Halfblood. Parents: Linda and Charles (dead) Goldstein. _Noble House of Goldstein._

Lisa Turpin – Brown hair and brown eyes. Minor pureblood. Parents: Nancy and Gary Turpin. Siblings: Patricia Turpin (2nd year)

Sue Li – Black hair, calculating brown eyes, immaculate appearance. Pureblood. Parents: Kyle Li and Anna Li. Siblings: Richard (3rd year) and Ella (9 yrs) Li.

Alicia Runcorn – Brown hair, blue eyes. Pureblood. _Noble House of Runcorn._ Parents: Alanna and Robert Runcorn. Siblings: Robert Runcorn Jr. (died at 17)

**Gryffindor**

Dean Thomas – Black hair and brown skin. Muggleborn. Parents: Debra and Luke Thomas. Siblings: Heather (9), Sarah (13), and Amanda (15) Thomas.

Ronald (Ron) Weasley – Red hair, brown eyes. Pureblood. Parents: Arthur (dead) and Molly Weasley. Siblings: Susan Bones (adoptive), and Ginny (10), Fred (13), George (13), Percy (15), Charlie (died at 18), and Bill (died at 19) Weasley. _Noble and Most Ancient House of Prewitt. Noble House of Weasley._

Neville Longbottom – Brown hair, brown eyes. Pureblood. Parents: Frank and Alice Longbottom (both presumed dead). _Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom (H)._

Harry Potter – Black hair, green eyes. Glasses. Halfblood. Parents: Lily and James Potter (both dead). _Noble House of Potter (H)._

Hermione Granger – Bushy brown hair and large front teeth. Muggleborn. Parents: Daniel and Emma Granger.

Margaret O'Connor – Red hair in two braids, brown eyes. Halfblood. Parents: Sylvie and James O'Connor. Siblings: Richard O'Connor (5th year)

**Slytherin**

Vincent Crabbe – Black hair and brown eyes. Pureblood. Raymond and Rebecca (dead) Crabbe. _Noble House of Crabbe._

Draco Malfoy – Blonde hair, constant sneer. Pureblood. Parents: Lucius and Narcissa (dead) Malfoy. _Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy (H). Noble and Most Ancient House of Black (H)._

Theodore Nott – Black hair, brown eyes. Pureblood. Parents: Anastasia and Alexander Nott. _Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott (H). Noble and Most Ancient House of Black._

Millicent Bulstrode – Brown hair, grey-brown eyes, rather chubby. Pureblood. Parents: _Noble and Most Ancient House of Bulstrode._

Tracey Davis – Wispy brown hair and brown eyes. Minor pureblood. Parents: Clara and Justin Davis. Siblings: Mary Davis (10).

Daphne Greengrass – Blonde hair and blue eyes. Pureblood. Parents: Aeolus and Danae Greengrass. _Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass (H). Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott._

**List of 2****nd**** year students (subject to change): 25**

Gryffindor: Cormac McLaggen, Emma Davis, Danielle Dunn, Tara Bole, Daniel Clearwater, Ned Walker

Hufflepuff: Anna Smith, Delia Adams, Laura Roper, Robert Miller, Mark Price, Matthew Richards

Ravenclaw: Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang, Tamora Belby, Ella Stimpson, Marcus Belby, Edward (Eddie) Carmichael

Slytherin: Tony Lestrange, Anastasia Taylor, Marie Nott, Coraline Edwards, Paul Road, Richard Li, Jayden Hopkins

**3****rd**** Year: 21**

Gryffindor: Angelina Johnson, Bella Rose Truman, Fred Weasley, George Weasley

Hufflepuff: Cedric Diggory, Marcus Towler, Hadrian Scrimgeour, Leo Edgars, Neriah Prang, Sierra Michaels, Katherine Bailey

Ravenclaw: Roger Davies, Annie Simonson, Tyr Baker, Amanda Brooks, Polly Carter

Slytherin: Cassius Warrington, Adrian Pucey, Alexa Lin, Chelsea Dune, Vivian Green

**4****th**** Year: 21**

Gryffindor: Hanna Perry, Luke Simonson, Elora Dunn, James Kard, Ryan Westrup, Ivan Renshaw

Hufflepuff: David Boorman, Felix Brunt, Jake Flinton, Sarah Flinton, Ruth Baker, Beatrice Haywood

Ravenclaw: John Corner, Sally Taylor, Dobbin Eekins, Robert Hilliard

Slytherin: Alex Skyes, Simon Dedworth, Martin Dedworth, Alissa Whorl, Cameron Yates

**5****th**** Year: 16**

Gryffindor: Percy Weasley, Richard O'Connor, Oliver Wood, Christina Lark

Hufflepuff: Eric Murley, Peter Freeman, Mabel Stewart, Lauretta Cawley

Ravenclaw: Jason Parker, Millie Walter, Penelope Clearwater

Slytherin: Marcus Flint, Jonathan Spratt, Edmund Spiers, Helena Till, Joanna Spencer

**6****th**** Year: 15**

Gryffindor: Phyllis Corbeld, Albus Wynch, Elise Keogh, Fredrick Leaky, Mary Sun

Hufflepuff: Adrianna Gaud, Jake Benson, Tilly Jones, Jonas Lark, Anna Hilliard

Ravenclaw: Minerva Fleet, Andy Eekins, Hadrian Brown

Slytherin: Dawn McLean, Myrtle Prince

**7****th**** Year: 14**

Gryffindor: Eric Wood, Lyra Wood

Hufflepuff: Aaron Michaels, Anya O'Leary, Eunice Steen

Ravenclaw: Thomas Drove, Hattie Steinway, Ollie Harding, Sasha Jones, Paulina Spencer

Slytherin: Xavier Bones, Noah West, Julianna Robins, Katlyn Walker

**I may have the need to add a character later on, but this is the tentative list for who the other students are. Wow. There are 137 students in Hogwarts. This is...not a lot. The war has really taken its toll, I guess, especially on the older years. They really do need the Muggleborns. That's about 20 students per year, which is honestly how it looked in the Cannon books, but I'm going to say that there were about 20 per year in the younger years and about 35 in 4th-7th year. So there really _should_ have been about 200 students in total...well, there really should have been about 280 students if not for the war. But if the war ended earlier, then there would be 63 more people at Hogwarts which is...not a lot either. But still, that's about 20 kids that have moved away and 40 that are dead, so I suppose it is big. It just doesn't feel big. I feel like the war should have made even more people die, but as I wrote up these characters I started getting attached to them. Oh well. That's still only about 20 kids per year.**


	9. Chapter 7: A New World Part 1 (NL)

**This chapter was so difficult to write. I had issues with all the scene breaks, with the perspective, and with where to finish this chapter and begin the next. This is 6705 words without the AN, and I can't find anywhere better to begin the next chapter. Thus, DADA does not end with this chapter, it is continued on into Chapter 8. If I cut right before DADA, it would be an awkward ending, since I like ending on a powerful note, not lunch. Also, I'd have to switch perspective too much. So, you get a monster chapter that makes no sense. Expect the next few chapters to be very long too.**

Neville kept ahold of Trevor as he walked into the room along with Hermione and Harry, his new friends. Neville thought they were friends, but he wasn't completely certain.

Harry had been presumed dead, and yet here he was, seemingly tired but perfectly fine. He was completely normal for a bright eleven-year-old, unlike all of the Heirs and children of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses that Neville was used to dealing with. Harry didn't introduce himself with his titles or formalities. Instead, he had walked up to Neville and said "Hi, I'm Harry Potter. We were friends when we were younger, I think. Can I sit here?" And Neville, of course, had said "Sure" and he had his friend from when he was eight back.

Hermione was the first of the House of Granger, with no titles whatsoever. And yet she had sat there with a calculating look in her eyes, as if examining the competition. She had been nice to Harry and Neville, but had made him upset about his parents. Neville didn't think that she had meant to, though, due to the horrified look on her face when she realized. Hermione recited entire pages of books, and had escaped from Malfoy with a Lumos charm. Everything she had said and done was completely confusing, but she obviously had some reasoning behind it all. Neville hadn't had a clue where she would be placed, but she had gone from Gryffindor, and he still wasn't certain what exactly she thought of him and Harry or what exactly he should think of her.

But Neville had two tentative friends, his toad, and was in his father's House, so he was happy.

Neville was currently standing in the should-have-been crowded Gryffindor Common Room, watching the group of six prefects who were currently standing by the fireplace. They were surrounded by plush chairs and couches, all red of course, and cozy rugs. A fire was merrily crackling away in the fireplace, warming the room, but it wasn't overly hot either. Everything seemed old, but in a calming, cozy way instead of cold and outdated. Neville loved it.

"Alright, everyone calm down," somebody shouted over the din. "Calm down! Everybody! Quiet!" He sighed. "I bet this is a lot easier in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. At least people'd listen to me there," he told the girl standing next to him. She rolled her eyes.

"Like you would've ever made it there," she scoffed.

"I've nearly got them under control –"

"Sonorous. EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" The girl yelled, elbowing the boy out of the way. Her voice was magnified tenfold by her spell. Neville wanted to learn that – no one could ever accuse him of being quiet again. "Right. So. My name is Lyra Wood, and this is my twin brother Eric Wood. We're the seventh year Gryffindor prefects, which means that you're supposed to listen to us. It also means that we have to tell you some stuff. Somewhere in here we'll be telling you guys about Quidditch and the Dueling Competition, which means that you'd better be quiet if you wanna hear."

"Right," Eric Wood interrupted. "So breakfast begins tomorrow at eight o'clock, lessons start at nine. We'll be waiting for you in the Common Room until seven-fifty. If you're a first year or want a refresher on how to locate the Great Hall, then you better be here by then. Take all of your books with you – you never know what you'll need."

"In the past few years," Lyra Wood added, "there has been a greater Ministry interest at Hogwarts. As such, certain changes have been made to the curriculum as well as attendance policies. You will have three classes for three hours each five days a week. This is more than you're used to, but it'll be made up for with less homework and a later wakeup time. Classes start at nine, now. In addition, sometimes a period, or three hours, will be completely free. We now have Broomstick Maneuvering Class instead of Flying Lessons, and you will notice that there has been some more standardization with regards to certain classes. Eric?"

"Quidditch tryouts will be held on not this Sunday, but next Sunday. Oliver wants to start early this year. We already have two Beaters and a Keeper, but we need another Chaser and a Seeker. First years are welcome to try out but are advised not to unless they have a lot of experience – they'll be practicing with real bludgers and that can get messy." The Weasley twins cheered until Lyra Wood silenced them with a glare.

"And Dueling Club should start next Thursday at 8:00, all years are welcome but advised to eat a light dinner. Food will be available afterwards," Lyra Wood said. "I'll be mainly in charge, but the Defense Professor is sponsoring it and will be there."

"Now I would like to introduce your other prefects," said Eric Wood. "For sixth year we've got Cardinal Skyes and Albus Wynch." He motioned to a girl with long red hair and a boy with blonde hair who looked rather pale and sickly. "Fifth year is Percy Weasley and Christina Lark." This time he motioned to Ron and Susan Weasley's older brother, Percy, and a girl with spiky brown hair that Percy had always complained about.

"I believe that is all," said Lyra. "Girls dormitories are that way and boys dormitories are that way."

The boys trooped up the steps until they reached their dormitory. Neville was huffing and puffing by the time he got up there and collapsed on the bed with his trunk. He surveyed the room silently as his dormmates began to chatter cheerfully.

There were four of them this year, and they all fit into a single dormitory, unlike in years past. Neville watched as the other boys talked to each other, interacting easily without any of his social awkwardness. Once they were a minute or so into the conversation, it was too late for him to join. And so, he just listened, learning far more than if he had tried to join in and ended up stammering out meaningless phrases.

There was Harry, of course, who seemed to instantly be making friends with Ron and Dean. Ron and Neville were sort of friendly, but seeing as Ron wasn't the heir of a Noble House they didn't see each other often. Neville wished that Susan was also a Gryffindor, but the Hufflepuff sorting was rather predictable.

Ron was showing Harry his chocolate frog cards, who was looking on with interest. They had met each other before, but briefly.

Dean Thomas was apparently Muggleborn, for he had put up several posters of Muggle football teams around his bed. "Have any of you seen a girl named Hermione Granger?" He asked curiously. "We had to split up on the train, and I saw her get Sorted but she sat at the opposite end of the table."

"Yeah," Harry said. "She came to our compartment after the thing with Malfoy. Were you okay?"

"Malfoy went in the other direction – I never saw him again. He's probably out for revenge, I'm guessing," Dean said.

"If he is, we'll help you," Neville said suddenly. "I mean, I will. Because we're dormmates, and, well…"

"He's a bigoted git and we'd be happy to help you with him and his cronies," Harry supplied, smiling.

"Thanks," Dean responded.

"I'll help too," Ron added. "Malfoy and his family are all Deatheaters – makes sense he'd be one too."

"W-we'd best be going to bed now," Neville said quietly. "We've got a l-long day tomorrow."

"I suppose," Harry said, climbing into his bed. Neville pulled his blankets up over him and let himself drift off into welcome sleep.

The next day, Neville and the other first year Gryffindors trooped down to the Great Hall for breakfast. There was a sort of tired excitement about them, and they were all looking forwards to their first day of magic school. Neville made sure to polish his wand before heading down. He hoped it would be enough.

The moment he sat down next to Harry, Hermione walked up to him. "Uh, Neville?" Hermione said. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn't mean to make you think about what happened to – sorry, about _that_."

"It's fine," Neville said quickly before Harry could start another argument. "D'you want to sit with us?" Hermione looked around.

"Sure," she said. "Thanks."

"Good morning," Professor McGonagall said, handing a schedule to each one of them. "Do not lose this, understand?" _Oh no_, Neville thought. He would definitely manage to lose it. Hopefully Harry could tell him what the classes are, at least.

Neville looked down at his schedule:

**Year 1 – Gryffindor**

Monday

8:00 – 8:55 _Breakfast_

9:00 – 11:55 _History of Magic with all Houses_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

1:00 – 2:55 _DADA with Slytherin_

3:00 – 5:55 _Charms with Hufflepuff_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

7:00 – 9:00 _Free_

9:00 _Curfew_

Midnight – 2:00 a. m. _N/A_

Tuesday

8:00 – 8:55 _Breakfast_

9:00 – 11:55 _Herbology with Hufflepuff_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

1:00 – 2:55 _Transfiguration with Ravenclaw_

3:00 – 5:55 _Charms with Hufflepuff_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

7:00 – 9:00 _Free_

9:00 _Curfew_

Midnight – 2:00 a. m. _N/A_

Wednesday

8:00 – 8:55 _Breakfast_

9:00 – 11:55 _History of Magic with all Houses_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

1:00 – 2:55 _DADA with Slytherin_

3:00 – 5:55 _Broomstick Maneuvers with Slytherin_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

7:00 – 9:00 _Free_

9:00 _Curfew_

Midnight – 3:00 a. m. _Astronomy_

Thursday

8:00 – 8:55 _Breakfast_

9:00 – 11:55 _Free_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

1:00 – 2:55 _Transfiguration with Ravenclaw_

3:00 – 5:55 _Herbology with Hufflepuff_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

7:00 – 9:00 _Free_

9:00 _Curfew_

Midnight – 2:00 a. m. _N/A_

Friday

8:00 – 8:55 _Breakfast_

9:00 – 11:55 _Potions with Slytherin_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

1:00 – 2:55 _DADA with Slytherin_

3:00 – 5:55 _Broomstick Maneuvers with Slytherin_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

7:00 – 9:00 _Free_

9:00 _Curfew_

Midnight – 2:00 a. m. _N/A_

Saturday

9:00 – 10:00 _Breakfast_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

9:00 _Curfew_

Sunday

9:00 – 10:00 _Breakfast_

12:00 – 12:55 _Lunch_

6:00 – 7:00 _Dinner_

9:00 _Curfew_

"Ugh," Ron Weasley said from across the table. "History first thing on Monday morning. And we've got Defense with the Slytherins!" Neville could see Hermione looking at Ron with a disgusted expression on her face as he shoveled food into his mouth while talking. "A' least we gedda duel 'em."

Hermione picked up her plate and sat down next to Dean, farther away from Ron. Neville didn't see how it really mattered – it was the stupid type of thing his Gran would get upset about. "I bet they know all sorts of Dark curses," Neville said nervously.

"They'll be teachers there," Harry said. "None of them will let it get bad."

"So, how's the Defense teacher going to be, you think?" Margaret, the second Gryffindor girl, asked.

"Doesn't seem too bright to me," Ron said. "More like he relies on strength."

"I bet he went to Durmstrang, though," Harry said quietly. "You learn lots of Defense Against the Dark Arts there."

"And quite a lot of Dark Arts," Neville added.

"What's Durmstrang?" Hermione asked. "It was mentioned in a few of my books, but –"

"Wi'ard 'ool," Ron said.

"Excuse me, what?" Hermione asked scathingly.

"Can you please just…stop?" Harry begged.

"What?" They said at the same time.

"Ron, it's a bit gross with food in your mouth," Margaret explained, "but that's also completely unnecessary, Hermione."

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I'm just…I'd prefer to be at home."

"But we're in wizard school!" Dean said. "You get to learn magic."

"I guess…what's Durmstrang?"

"It's a Wizarding school," Harry explained. "One of the three best ones in Europe, but it's focused heavily on the Dark Arts. Grindlewald went there. You know him, right?"

"The one Dumbledore defeated?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, one of the ones, at least." Neville said, wondering why she hadn't said Professor Dumbledore or used one of his titles. His Gran had told him all about Professor Dumbledore – how he had defeated Grindlewald, how he had defeated You-Know-Who with magic so powerful that no one knew what it was, how he was the champion of the minority's rights. "They don't admit Muggleborns either, but there's such a wide range of students from different countries that go there that there that many of them who aren't prejudiced."

"_I_'m going to get an early start to History," Hermione said suddenly, standing up from her seat, "and I'd recommend that you do too – it's difficult to find your way around here."

"I'll come with you," Neville said quickly. He didn't want to get lost, and if he waited he'd probably end up having to find his way to History alone.

000

History was held in a large classroom, nearly a lecture hall, with a giant array of chalkboards and half the desks on a raised platform. Neville sat down next to Harry and Susan, who immediately plopped herself right down next to him. "Hi, Neville," she grinned. Two girls with yellow-trimmed robes sat walked over. "These are Sally-Anne Perks and Leanne. Girls, this is my friend, Neville."

Neither girl curtsied, thankfully, and so Neville just shook their hands and hoped his Gran never found out. "How's Hufflepuff?" He asked curiously.

"Great," Susan said, "but I shocked you weren't there. You okay in Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Neville answered, "the Sorting Hat let me choose. And Harry's really nice – our parents were good friends."

"Just don't stop being my friend 'cause of some silly House points, okay?" Susan asked.

"Of course," Neville smiled.

"But wait, did you mean Harry as in the dead Potter heir?"

"Oh, hello," Harry said, looking over at the group. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Perks, Miss Owens, and Heir Bones."

"Hi," Susan said, holding out her hand. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry grinned, "at your service." Neville noticed with astonishment that he appeared to be…flirting? They were eleven years old, and this wasn't anything like the way Harry had acted before. Where had the shy, tired boy gone?

"The Potter heir's alive?" Leanne gasped.

"I'm not an Inferi," Harry said flippantly.

"The Potter heir…?" Sally-Anne wondered.

"I'll explain later," Susan said. "Anyway, nice to meet you, Heir Potter." A hush fell over the classroom as a balding ghost drifted through the blackboard, a ghostly piece of chalk in his hand. Instead of introducing himself, he immediately began to lecture in a slow, dry voice.

"In the year…1200 BC…the first…recorded…use of a…rudimentary…levitation charm…was…recorded…in…1200 BC…at a building…made of…wood…or possibly…stone…" Neville slowly felt his eyelids drooping, and gradually he slipped away into a deep, deep sleep.

"Neville!"

"Wha…"

"Neville, we're going to lunch – unless you want to sleep through it?" Susan teased.

"Sorry – wait – oh." Sighing, Neville lifted himself up from his seat and walked down to lunch with the rest of the first years.

000

"So," Hermione said, putting her gigantic stack of books down on the table and making it shake, "what were you doing at the beginning of History of Magic, Harry?"

"What do you mean?" He asked innocently.

"You were acting…different…like, oh, never mind." Hermione served herself some chicken and opened up her book, not waiting for a reply.

"Er, was that too much?" Harry asked Neville. Neville would respond "a bit," but what if Harry wasn't talking about his conversation with Susan?

"What do you mean?"

"The titles and 'at your service'. My Unc – I mean, my guardian – taught me a bit about the Noble houses and stuff, so I wasn't certain what the situation called for. I think my dad would've done that, though, from what my guardian said."

Neville looked at Harry curiously. "You did, er, seem a bit like you were flirting?" Neville admitted nervously. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, but you seemed kind of shy earlier."

"If it's what my dad would have done, well, I guess I'm a lot like him?" Harry offered. Neville looked at his new friend curiously. Something was really odd about Harry's behavior.

"Who is your guardian by the way?" Neville wondered. "Leanne was right, everyone thought you were dead. Everyone tried to finds you – Dumbledore, Minister Bagnold, Minister Fudge, all the important people. The Potter Heir can't stay hidden for that long!"

"I managed," Harry said. "Besides, by guardian had…some money. We made do." Suddenly, it all made sense. Harry's guardian must have been rich, to afford the protections and not make use of the Potter vaults. Probably foreign, too, since they didn't claim the seat. But that was odd, since Harry had come to school wearing faded second-hand clothes, not rich robes. Even if his guardian wasn't one for opulent displays of wealth, he'd have at least dressed Harry in new clothes. Perhaps, though, it was a trick, and this was just another way to cover the tracks! That must be it! Harry had been raised in another country by a rich foreigner who had to keep this secret for political reasons. "So Binns was pretty terrible, right?"

"You really shouldn't have slept through his class," Hermione chided. "You still've got to take the exams."

"Everyone fails those – no one's gotten a History NEWT in ages!" Ron protested.

"I tried to pay attention," Neville insisted, "but his voice was just so…droney? Droning? Drone-like? He just droned on and on, and I couldn't help it!"

"He's a terrible teacher," Hermione conceded, "but History is very important. Besides, I don't know any of this, and where am I to learn it? And you can pick up lots of stuff about Wizarding culture from the way that stuff is taught. Like, the first levitation charm was recorded in a village, not in front of an academic board or something. He mentions that it didn't reach widespread use in Britain until 400 BC, and it was one of the first charms ever invented, along with the fire charm, water charm, and light charm. Plus, magic obviously goes back really far – as in, Trojan war far."

"Well," Margaret said, "magic wasn't that big in the 1200s BC. Even in the 400s BC. It only started to become semi-standardized around 0 to 300 AD, and then it was truly widespread when Hogwarts was founded, sometime around…" Margaret squinted, trying to remember, "oh, it was in 856."

"Wow," Dean said, "how did you learn so much?" Hermione was sitting next to him, like she had in History.

"My dad actually passed his History NEWT," Margaret answered. "He wrote three History books, but Binns makes us buy Bathilda Bagshot's book. It's really biased and stuff, and it only covers stuff through the 19th century. But, it was written in 1903, so it was actually very modern and progressive at the time. Sorry," she said sheepishly, "my dad's really obsessed with it."

"Thanks!" Hermione said. "Can you teach me some more History? I don't want to have to wait until 7th year to know everything."

"Maybe," Margaret said, "if I can remember it."

"Great! You know," Hermione added, "there was no mention of wands in that lecture. Ollivanders said 'Makers of fine wands since 382 BC', but I haven't heard mention of things earlier."

"Huh," Dean said, "maybe wizards haven't always used wands."

"Accidental magic doesn't need them," Neville contributed, glad to have a way to participate in the conversation. "But it's uncontrolled – you couldn't do much without a wand."

"What if wands are helpful in controlling magic, but not necessary!" Harry said triumphantly.

"That's like saying that you can do magic without words, though," Neville said. "Well, the family House-Elf can do that, but no humans can."

"I don't know," Ron said. "My mom waves her wand and food just appears."

"You can't do that!" Hermione protested. "It's against one of the Principle Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. What? It's in the first chapter!"

"She waves her wand and food flies around and gets cooked and stuff," Ron amended.

"So it's possible to do magic without words, then," Dean decided. "Maybe it's possible to do controlled magic without a wand, to an extent. Basic stuff, like levitation. Wow, I can't believe I just said 'basic stuff like levitation'. Magic is amazing!"

"We should get going to DA," Hermione said uncomfortably. "We don't know how to get there, so we should budget in ten extra minutes."

"Ten?" Ron said incredulously.

"I'm going," Hermione sniffed, shoving her massive stack of books in her bag, "and you can follow if you want."

"Honestly," Ron said, "what's wrong with her?"

"To be fair," Neville said diplomatically, "that is going a bit overboard. She's just a bit annoyed, that's all."

"I just didn't think ten minutes was reasonable!" Ron defended.

"It's a bit much," Harry said, "but there's nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared. There's also nothing wrong with wanting to spend as much time as you can with your friends, eating this great food. Hogwarts food really is amazing, you know. We can wait a little bit."

000

Neville just barely got to Professor Aslanov's class on time. He and the other first years had wandered around for a while until a prefect had shown them the way to classroom 42B. It was a large classroom, with metal desks arranged in three curved rows, forming a semicircle around the center of the room. A gap split the semi-circle into two section, forming a clear path to the door. Beyond the semi-circle was a large open area, with a dueling circle drawn into the ground. At the end of the room was a desk for the teacher, with stacks of books piled high on it. The wall behind the desk was a huge blackboard, on which was written in large, blocky letters:

PROFESSOR ASLANOV

2ND PERIOD – MONDAY

DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS

IF YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, LEAVE NOW

Looking around nervously, Neville sat down in the middle of the second row. "Hey, move over," Margaret puffed, pushing past him.

"Sorry," Neville muttered.

"Oh, sorry, Neville, didn't mean for it to come out like that," Margaret apologized, still out of breath from the dash though the corridors.

"It's fine," he assured her, taking out his defense textbook, quill, and parchment. Harry sat down next to him, not at all fazed by all the terrible running.

At precisely 1:00, a man burst through the doors, bloodred robes billowing behind him. He had dark hair, cut so short that he appeared nearly bald, and cruel grey eyes. The man wore polished black boots and under his red robes was a black uniform. His wand was also a dark black, with some red around the base, and it shone in the well-lit classroom. The professor strode through the middle of the rows and then turned sharply on the class.

His gaze seemed to focus in on each student on turn, making Neville shy away in fear. Professor Aslanov was already turning out to be scary – plus, he was probably from Durmstrang. Suddenly, his wand shot up to be pointed straight at the Nott heir. Immediately, _without him even speaking_, a red bolt of energy shot out at the boy and stunned him, sending him slumped into his desk, unconscious. Ron laughed at the Slytherin's plight, and Professor Aslanov whirled around, a spell hitting him and paralyzing his upper half. The professor spun, attacking Harry next, who, seeing what was coming, ducked under his desk. Another spell was sent at the Slytherin side of the room, hitting a small Slytherin girl who Neville had never met. She froze, falling down against Greengrass, who shrieked and pushed her aside, dodging Professor Aslanov's next spell by accident.

Malfoy, sitting on the edge of the back row, knocked over his desk and hid behind it, just in time for Professor Aslanov's next spell, an electric blue one, to fizzle out harmlessly against it. Hermione looked over at that, and pushed her desk over for herself and Margaret, but it was too late to stop herself from getting hit by one of the curses. Her legs locked together and she tumbled away from the fallen desk. Harry, however, ducked behind the cover, pulling Hermione back behind the desk. Neville slipped and fell, just barely managing to avoid one of the blue spells.

Meanwhile, Crabbe had gotten his wand summoned from his hand by the professor, but that didn't stop him from charging straight towards Professor Aslanov. Within moments, he was sent flying back towards the edge of the room, his fall cushioned with another wave from the professor's wand. However, this gave Neville time to duck behind his own fallen desk and attempt a spell of his own that his Gran had taught him – "_Dormion!_" he yelled, a weak bolt of dark blue energy flying towards the professor, who dodged effortlessly.

"Fight back!" Harry yelled. "Everyone needs to fight back!" He ducked behind his cover as another spell was sent towards him. It hit the desk, which disintegrated into a pile of dust. Harry's face went white as another spell shot towards him. He threw himself behind Neville's desk, leaving Margaret and Hermione exposed. Hermione raised her wand, still unable to use her legs, and pointed it at not the professor, but Greengrass's chair. She appeared to take a deep breath, then made a complicated movement with her wand – a simple but effective force charm. "_Propellio!_" The chair skidded across the floor, as Hermione seemed to strain her magic, and flew towards the Professor. With a wave of his wand, it flew away, towards the wall, where it cracked and fell against the floor, broken.

Neville took a deep breath and shot another "_Dormion!_" at the professor. This time, he used a shield charm and deflected the spell. Hermione's eyes widened even before it hit, but even her ability to calculate the angles couldn't save her – with her legs paralyzed, she had no mobility. She slumped down against Margaret, who whispered "sorry, Hermione," and pushed her away.

Neville watched as Bulstrode threw pieces of the broken chair at the Professor, who deflected them easily. Greengrass muttered something and sent a ray of red light at the Professor, who dodged, and responded with an electric blue spell. She didn't duck in time, and it hit her in the face, making her legs collapse like jelly. She tried again, but this time a she was hit with a red spell and went unconscious.

This was hopeless, Neville knew. The professor dodged every single one of his spells, and only six students were left. Dean, who had been continually attempting to sneak up on the professor but then going back to hide each time Aslanov turned his way. Margaret, who was hiding behind a desk with no clue what to do. Bulstrode, who was still trying to chuck her textbooks at the professor. Harry, who was attempting to cast the sleep spell and the leg-locker curse to little effect. Malfoy, who was cowering behind his desk and trying to find the instructions for the shield charm in a textbook. And Neville, who had absolutely no clue what to do and was frozen in shock.

Bulstrode was felled with a rebound shot from Neville's next attack, and Malfoy managed to remember the simple shield charm in time to deflect one of the electric blue spells. Dean took a heavy bronze knut from his pocket and threw it at the professor, who ducked. It went clanging off the wall and fell down. Neville threw himself away from the next spell, behind Malfoy's desk. Malfoy took one look at him and pushed him into the open. Dean provided the distraction that Neville needed to crawl behind Harry's desk by charging at the professor and attempting to kick him. Professor Aslanov raised his eyebrow and caught Dean's leg, causing him to fall back to the ground on his back.

"_Dormion!_" Harry finally managed. His spell was simply dodged, and the professor returned the fire with a red spell. Harry hid behind his desk and avoided the spell, but the professor quickly shot another one at Malfoy. It was too fast for him to even realize it was coming, and the Slytherin fell down, petrified.

Margaret threw one of her textbooks at the professor, taking after Bulstrode, but she was quickly stunned unconscious. Dean picked himself up, and was hit with a dark blue sleep spell. Neville looked at Harry, hiding next to him behind the desk. "We attack together, you take left, I take right" Harry said. Neville nodded, determined. "Three, two, one –"

Neville leapt up from behind the desk and shot a sleep spell at the professor's right. But it flew off course, and a spell hit him, and everything went black.

"Neville!" Someone said, and Neville felt himself pulled to his feet. He opened his eyes and blinked, once, twice.

"Neville, are you okay?" Neville looked over at Harry. All around him, students were waking up and testing their previously-paralyzed limbs.

"Is the fight still happening?" Neville asked.

"No."

"Please return to your desks," Professor Aslanov announced. "I will not attack again this period, and we will be having a class discussion."

Groaning, Neville stumbled over to his desk and sat down. It was no longer turned over, and his textbooks were sitting back on top of it in a neat pile. Harry plopped himself into the desk next to him, smiling. "That was great," he announced.

"Terrible," Neville corrected. "It was terrible."

"Think about how much we learned!"

"That is correct, Mr. Potter," the professor said loudly without any hint of an accent, quelling the whispered conversations among the students. "Now, I had not expected for you to win. You had no chance of winning, and this was when I was using only spells that you will learn this year providing the customary 'accident' waits until after the finals. I caught you unawares, and with the advantage of surprise, only some of you had even a chance to duck or dodge. However, this is a _Defense _class. You are to learn how to defend yourselves. And obviously, you are incapable of it. Therefore, I shall take twenty points from Slytherin and twenty points from Gryffindor. However," he said, interrupting the groans, "you will have chances to earn these points back before the end of class."

"First," Professor Aslanov said, "two points to Mr. Potter, the first person to dodge one of my attacks. Next, two points to Mr. Malfoy, who had the idea of using a desk as cover. Another point to Mr. Potter for helping Miss Granger – it is always useful to aid your allies. Two points to Mr. Crabbe, for doing something despite the loss of his wand – far too many wizards and witches are rendered helpless without theirs. Two points to Mr. Longbottom for casting the first spell against me. Two points to Miss Granger for resourcefulness, casting the basic horizontal propulsion charm on a chair. Two points to Miss Bulstrode for the idea of throwing objects. Two points to Mr. Malfoy for effective use of the basic shield charm. Two points to Mr. Thomas for getting within the necessary range to kick me. And two points to Mr. Potter for attempting to trap me between two spells. Thus, Gryffindors have negative nine points for this lesson, so far, and Slytherins have negative twelve."

"Now," he said, "it is your turn to attempt to identify the spells that I used. You have your textbooks, and are permitted to use them for this exercise. Raise your hand when you have the name of a spell that I used."

Immediately, Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Miss Granger?"

"The basic shield charm!"

"Are you certain?" Professor Aslanov asked. Malfoy snickered.

Hermione briefly looked crushed, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, professor. I thought – because of the color, it appeared milky white. And the angle of the spell deflected wasn't caused by any gestures of your own, it just happened as it happened…"

"You are correct, Miss Granger. I used the basic shield charm. One point to Gryffindor. Just because I ask you to explain your reasoning does not mean you are incorrect." Hermione smiled. "Can anyone tell me the incantation for the basic shield charm?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air again, along with multiple Slytherins and Harry. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Proti, Professor."

"Correct, one point to Slytherin. Does anyone know any other spells that I used? Mr. Potter."

"The leg-locker curse, professor. Locomotor Mortis."

"Two points to Gryffindor. Any others? Yes, Miss Davis."

"The full body bind curse," the girl who had fallen on Greengrass said quietly.

"One point to Slytherin. Do you know the incantation?" The girl shook her head. "Anyone?" Neville remembered his Gran trying to teach this one to him, but giving up. He should know this, it was right on the tip of his tongue… "Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville looked around, confused. He hadn't raised his hand. "Petrificus…total, tota, totatlus!" He said triumphantly.

"Correct, one point to Gryffindor. Any others? Yes, Miss Greengrass."

"The stunning spell, stupefy."

"Good, two points to Slytherin. Any others? Miss O'Connor."

"I…didn't raise my hand, professor," Margaret protested. He waited. "Er…oh, dormion – it must be a sleep spell."

"Correct, two points to Gryffindor. Mr. Nott?"

"The jelly-legs jinx. Locomotor Wibbly."

"Two points to Slytherin. Now that you know which spells I used, we will move onto the spells that you used." Hermione's hand shot into the air, but the professor continued on. "The sleep spell seemed to be a favorite. The basic shield spell was demonstrated by Mr. Malfoy. Miss Greengrass attempted a leg-locker spell. And a creatively used horizontal propulsion charm was cast by Miss Granger. Four spells. Now," he said, "that is four more than you were supposed to know. After all, wands are not to be gained before a magician's eleventh birthday, and it is illegal to use magic outside of school before one's seventeenth birthday…"

Neville felt himself looking guilty, even though he knew many of the other pureblood students had done much more than learn a light charm, a sleep spell, and some theory.

"No matter," Professor Aslanov said, "for everyone who has not had the opportunity to exploit the legal system will soon be caught up. Now, it is time to teach you a spell, one that many of you seem to know. Dormion, a sleep spell. It is pronounced as 'door-mi-AHN', and the ratio of the syllable duration is 1:1:2. For those of you who have not studied your textbooks, this means that you hold the 'ahn' sound for twice as long as the 'door' and the 'mi'. The wand movements are an up on the 'door', a movement to the right if you are right-handed or left if you are left-handed on 'mi', and then a flick down to the base of the first gesture on the 'ahn'."

The professor drew the shape on the chalkboard, forming a sort of triangle with arrows at the vertices. "Now believe it or not, this is actually one of the most simple charms. I would like you to pair up and practice casting it on a partner. He waved his wand, and the front of the room was suddenly covered in plush red cushions. You will have an hour of training, and then we will put your knowledge to the test. Begin."

"D'you want to be my partener?" Harry asked. "I sort of got it at the end, but I'm honestly not sure if I can cast it again now that I'm not fighting."

"Sure!" Neville said happily. "Though I'd expect your guardian to have taught you more magic."

"He didn't really…well, I wasn't allowed to do anything except theory," Harry explained. "And theory's boring."

"It is," Neville agreed. "You learned the sleep spell really quick – my gran spent a month trying to get me to learn it. So, do you want to try it on me?"

"Alright," Harry said.

At the end of the hour, Harry had gotten the spell to work fairly consistently, though he still had issues with finding the correct base point again occasionally.

"Everyone, please return to your desks," Professor Aslanov ordered. The exhausted students collapsed into their seats. "We are going to have a tactical competition. On the board, I have placed you with someone else that you are to fight using the sleep spell as your only spell." He waved his wand and the cushions disappeared. With another wave, the structure for the tournament appeared on the board. A final wave conjured three barrels, two wooden chairs, and a large wooden table complete with a table cloth, golden Hogwarts plates, and utensils on the field. You may use anything you desire out of the props as you wish, but no spells other than dormion. Now, if you wish, you may choose not to fight. You would be disqualified from the competition, and your opponent would advance to the next round."

"Now," he continued, "the rules pertaining to who wins. You win if your opponent is rendered incapable of fighting, submits, or is knocked out of the dueling circle. Simple. I expect you all not to interfere, and to take notes. We will begin with Miss Bulstrode and Miss O'Connor."

The two girls got up nervously and stepped into the front circle. Margaret hadn't been able to cast the spell, but neither could Bulstrode. "Begin in three, two, one, go!"

Bulstrode yelled "_Dormion!_" but no spell came out of her wand. She tried again, and the spell fizzled out on her wand. Margaret tried to cast the spell, but her pronunciation was off, and the spell never came. Bulstrode threw her wand aside and tossed a plate at Margaret, who ducked and screamed. Picking up more utensils, she charged at the small Gryffindor girl, who ran away, frightened, but apparently to brave to quit.

Margaret dodged a knife and screamed, before attempting to punch Bulstrode. The larger girl, however, simply grabbed the redhead by her arm and pulled. "I give up! Please!" Margaret yelled, but Bulstrode grinned and didn't let go. Professor Aslanov pointed his wand at Bulstrode and she stumbled backwards away from the Gryffindor girl.

"Bulstrode is the victor, and will continue to the next round." the professor announced. Neville looked at him in shock. Surely he would do something – take points, give detention, _something._ Margaret didn't move from where she was, and started to sob. Hermione rushed forwards.

"Margaret, Margaret, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the girl said, wiping away her tears.

"Please vacate the dueling circle," Professor Aslanov warned the two girls. Hermione gaped at him, appalled, like she was about to argue, but then took a deep, calming breath and led Margaret back to her seat. Neville wondered what the professor was thinking, letting Bulstrode win after that display. "Remember, none of this is life-threatening. I am watching over the battles. However, once a duel is over, please stop fighting. Next, Miss Davis versus Mr. Longbottom."

Shakily, Neville stood up and walked over to the dueling circle. He raised his wand, watching the Davis girl as she nervously did the same. "Three, two, one, begin!" Neville dove to the ground as Davis shot a sleep spell at him, then shot one back. His aim was terrible, however, and she didn't even dodge.

"_Dormion!_" yelled the girl, the spell hitting a wall far to Neville's right. Neville cast his spell again, and it hit the table. The girl's next spell fizzled out, but she sent a well-aimed one at him that he just barely ducked.

Neville ran forwards, getting closer so that he had a better chance to hit. Davis grabbed one of the plates from the table and used it as a shield to block his next spell, which was deflected into a wall, where it was absorbed harmlessly. Trying to get around the makeshift shield, Neville aimed a sleep spell at Davis's feet, but she simply stepped to the side. She sent another spell at Neville, and he threw himself down to the ground. Neville struggled to his feet and staggered away from Davis's next spell.

Neville looked at Davis.

Davis looked at Neville.

Neville could swear he saw the shy girl smirk.

"_Dormion!_"

And it was Davis who fell to the ground.


	10. Chapter 8: A New World Part 2 (HP)

**Merry Christmas!**

**I know I promised a long chapter and this one isn't even 2500 words in my program, but I couldn't find a better place to cut it. So, I'm posting it quickly. Next chapter, I'll explore some other perspectives. The one after that is the rest of the week, including the eventful DADA classes and likely three informative conversations with Dumbledore.**

**Also, yes, I made Hermione good at trash talking. I guess she has a lot of experience learning how to deal with bullies?**

Harry congratulated Neville as he sat down, watching as Professor Aslanov revived the girl. He wanted to learn how to do that. "Miss Granger and Mr. Nott," the professor announced. Hermione got up from her seat, glancing at Bulstrode before seeming to size Nott up.

"I'll beat you this time," he said, glaring at Hermione.

"I'm surprised that a pureblood like you needs a rematch against a Muggleborn," Hermione said sweetly, her voice quavering slightly.

"You don't have a Lumos charm to save you now," Nott sneered.

"I guess I'll just have to make do with something a little more powerful."

"Three, two, one, begin!" Hermione dove away from Nott's first spell, hiding behind a chair. She moved her wand to cast the spell, but her panicked motions called the charm to fail.

"Focus, Hermione," she muttered, and cast it again. Nott stepped to the side and attacked with a "_Dormion!" _of his own.

Hermione ducked back under the chair and threw one of the table knives at him. It fell far short, clanging against the ground.

"Pittiful," Nott sneered, casting his spell again.

"_Dormion!_" Hermione yelled. Her aim, however, was terrible, and Nott didn't move an inch. He lazily shot a sleep spell at her, which she dove behind a barrel to avoid. He attacked with another spell, which hit a golden plate and was reflected into the wooden ceiling. Hermione's eyes flickered to the plate and back to Nott again. She surged forwards and grabbed a plate, which she flung at Nott. It, like the knife, fell far short of its goal. Hermione slipped, avoiding Nott's next spell, and shrieked as he pulled on the tablecloth, sending the table's contents spilling down towards her.

Scooching backwards, Hermione tried to cast the spell again, but it flew wildly off-target and was absorbed into the wall. She staggered to her feet, clutching a golden plate.

"You can't hit me, Muggle scum," Nott said, casting another sleep spell at her. Hermione raised the plate, angling it parallel to Nott. The spell bounced off the golden plate and flew straight towards Nott, who tried to duck…

"I don't have to," Hermione said to the unconscious Slytherin boy.

"Rennervate," Professor Aslanov said.

"I want a rematch, Granger," Nott spat, picking himself up from the ground.

"Any time," she said, clearly shaken. "Professor Aslanov? Why gold?"

"We will discuss that later. In the meantime, Mr. Weasley will face Mr. Thomas."

"I'm so gonna lose," Dean groaned.

Ron's ears went red. "No way, I can't really cast the spell. You?"

"Fifty-fifty," Dean admitted.

"Three, two, one, begin." Ron dove behind a barrel, avoiding a spell that never came. Dean tried again, but his aim was terrible. Ron grabbed a knife and chucked it at Dean, who ducked and threw a plate. Ron caught it, and staggered backwards out of the ring.

"Mr. Thomas is victorious," Professor Aslanov announced. Ron glared at Dean before shaking himself.

"Great job," he told Dean.

"Nah, I just got lucky," Dean disagreed.

"Next, Mr. Potter will face Mr. Malfoy."

Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the dueling ring, sizing up his opponent. Malfoy was a rich pureblood – he had probably learned this spell long ago and was quite proficient at it. Malfoy sneered at him. Cocky; the Slytherin expected to win. Harry raised his wand, already planning his strategy.

"Three, two, one, begin!" Malfoy's spell was shot even before the professor spoke, nearly catching Harry by surprise.

"Stop!" Professor Aslanov said. "I expect you to _wait_ until the duel begins."

"But professor," Malfoy complained, "you won't have warning in a fight."

"And in combat you will, hopefully, be using more diverse spells than the sleep spell. However, these are the rules, and I do expect you to tolerate them, Mr. Malfoy. Ready yourselves – three, two, one, begin!" Harry shot his spell off first, but Malfoy ducked effortlessly and fired off a spell of his own. He ducked, spinning around to cast a "_Dormion!_" but Malfoy stepped to the side despite the precision of Harry's aim.

"_Dormion!_" Malfoy yelled, taking cover behind a barrel. Harry dodged, casting his own, and Malfoy hid. Harry dove behind a different barrel when Malfoy popped out from behind his cover. "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish," Harry muttered, shooting his own sleep spell at the boy and charging forwards to take cover behind the third barrel. Malfoy shot off an incredibly accurate sleep spell, which Harry had to throw himself on the ground to duck, and pushed away Harry's barrel. He aimed a spell down at Harry, who rolled closer to Malfoy and pushed him over. Standing up, he attempted to hit Malfoy again, who avoided it and scrambled to his feet. Harry pushed his barrel towards Malfoy so that it rolled, gaining on him, and Malfoy had to dive out of the way. Harry shot a sleep spell at him, but he crawled away just in time.

To dodge Malfoy's next sleep spell, Harry had to literally fall over. The Slytherin grinned, advancing on him, but Harry threw the nearby fallen plate. Malfoy twisted to the side, giving Harry time to stand up and grab a knife from the table with which to attack.

Malfoy grabbed the fallen golden plate as a shield, and Harry snatched one from the table as well. "_Dormion!_" Harry ducked the deflected spell and positioned his plate to block that of Malfoy's. The other boy whirled around and sent a sleeping spell flying at Harry's feet. He scrambled backwards, leaning against a table, and ducked on of Malfoy's curses. Another one nearly hit, but he threw himself to the left and retaliated with a quick sleeping spell of his own.

"_Dormion!_" Malfoy yelled, and Harry blocked it with his shield. Malfoy grabbed a knife from the table and threw it like a boomerang, which Harry just barely ducked. He did the same with a knife of his own, but Malfoy dodged and sent another sleeping spell at Harry.

Harry grabbed at the table desperately, picking up an array of cutlery and chucking it at the Slytherin. He wiped the sweat from his face, grinning. Harry had never felt so alive. Unfortunately, his momentary distraction caught him, and he fell over while trying to avoid Malfoy's next spell. Scrambling backwards, he was put on the defensive, unable to attack without risking himself.

"_Dormion! Dormion! Dormion!_" Malfoy yelled in quick succession. Harry smiled at him, suddenly getting an idea. He cast a spell back at Malfoy, and then moved slightly to the right of Malfoy's next spell, before collapsing to the ground.

It was difficult, and scary, because the ground was hard and Harry couldn't control his fall, but somehow he settled softly onto the ground. His eyes closed, Harry was unaware of what was going on around him, but he could hear Malfoy gloating above him. "Just goes to show that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy is better than half-bloods, even those of noble houses. Made a good showing though, Potter, so I might deign to allow you to become one of my cronies." Harry, holding back a smirk, slowly raised his wand, eyelids slightly open.

"Professor Aslanov," Harry heard Malfoy turn to face the professor. "Why haven't you called the match?"

"_Dormion!_" Harry said, and Malfoy fell to the ground.

"Great job!" Neville said from his desk.

"Thanks," Harry responded. "That Slytherin's a git."

"No fair," Malfoy whined, stirring from the professor's spell. "He shot me in the back!"

"And why is that an issue?"

"It's – you're not supposed to do that!" He insisted.

"I see," Professor Aslanov stated, looking at the class. "That makes him dishonorable," Malfoy smirked, "and you dead." His face fell. "Now, Miss Greengrass verses Mr. Crabbe. This is our last duel of the first round, I believe."

A pretty girl with blonde hair walked out to the center with confidence, followed by a large, fat boy with a cruel face. "Three, two, one, begin."

"_Dormion!_" The girl said, whirling around. Her aim was wildly off course, but the fat boy couldn't even get the spell to leave his wand. Greengrass walked right up to the boy, prepared to cast her spell. He suddenly reached out to punch her, but she ducked with astounding grace and hit him straight in the face with her royal blue spell. "That was simple," she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and returning to her seat.

"We are now entering round two," Professor Aslanov announced. "Our participants are Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Potter, and Miss Greengrass. Each of you will receive three points for your house. Miss Bulstrode will face Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger will face Mr. Thomas, and Mr. Potter will face Miss Greengrass. The winners will have until next class to prepare for a large, three-person battle, in which everyone will be expected to _take notes_! First, Miss Bulstrode and Mr. Longbottom."

"You can do it, Neville," Harry said, wondering if Neville really could do it. The two nervous children faced each other, and on the count of three, Bulstrode charged straight at Neville. Shocked, his wand fell straight from his hand, and she pushed him out of the ring.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Neville said, trudging back to his seat.

"That girl's a nightmare," Harry whispered, "honestly, she's like a demon stuck inside a fat eleven-year-old." Instantly, he winced. That had come out a lot crueler than he had suspected. Neville looked upset.

"Er, Harry? That was…a bit mean?" He said hesitantly.

"I didn't mean to say that," he defended, knowing that that really wasn't good enough. It's what his father would do, and that was his best way for no one to realize that something was wrong. But what about his mother? She wouldn't ever say that. Perhaps Harry should take a more moderate stance in the future.

Harry watched as Hermione faced Dean. Dean was great at dodging, and Hermione was rather clumsy, but in the end her intelligence and knowledge of the spell won out. Dean congratulated her good-naturedly, and before he could prepare it was Harry's turn.

He had to be able to do this – his red oak wand had chosen him. He turned to face Greengrass, who looked at him without conveying any emotion. _I can do this_, he reminded himself.

"Three, two, one, begin!" Harry could feel the spell in the air, coming towards him, which was all that let him duck Greengrass's sleeping spell in time. Her movements had been so concise that she had nearly caught him by surprise.

"_Dormion!_" He yelled. His aim was true, but Greengrass ducked with startling speed and shot another sleeping spell at him. _How is this girl so quick? _Harry wondered, firing off another sleeping spell from behind a barrel. She dodged, of course, and returned fire. Harry knew that he would have to find some way to pin her in place or else he'd never catch her. Greengrass was turning out to be a lot more difficult to beat than he'd thought.

"_Dormion!_"

"_Dormion!_"

"_Dormion!_"

"_Dormion!_"

The spells flew back and forth, forcing Harry to spend most of his thought processes on dodging Greengrass's spell. She danced through the barrage of dark blue bolts with startling ease, forcing Harry to remain on the defensive. Soon he realized, though, that although she wasn't tiring, she didn't seem to have any form of strategy.

Harry grabbed a golden plate and blocked one of her spells, but she dodged the reflected one and he was nearly hit by her next attack. "You're going to lose!" Harry yelled, trying to provoke her into doing something rash. She ignored him.

Can't hit her – check.

Can't distract her – check.

Can't dodge forever – check.

It seemed that Harry was out of options. There had to be a loophole somewhere, but he couldn't find it. He was going to lose.

She wouldn't fall for the playing dead trick, not after he had gotten Malfoy with it.

So what could he do?

Harry grabbed a barrel and pushed it over, so that it rolled onto the other side. Casting a final sleeping spell, he dove under the table. There. That would buy him some time and make Greengrass come over there.

He shot sleeping spell after sleeping spell at her, but she still managed to dodge them and shoot at him under the table. Harry rolled from side to side, trying to dodge them, and then pulled on the table cloth to shield him from view. The plates and utensils collapsed between the two children, blocking Greengrass from Harry. Harry honestly had no clue what he was doing, but he scrambled up from under the table and ducked Greengrass's spell. He tried to push her out of the ring, but his reluctance and her skill ruined the maneuver. Harry ran towards the end of the ring and Greengrass followed. He twisted around, hoping that she would step out, but she simply turned and attacked. He tried to grab her wand hand, but she kneed him in the stomach and attempted to push him out of the ring, pulling his wand from his in the process.

Harry dodged her next sleep spell, stumbling backwards. Without a wand, he was useless. He tried to push her out again, but she grabbed his arm and twisted it.

Gasping in pain, he reached towards her wand and forced it to point away from him, Greengrass's next spell firing into the ceiling. He pushed with all his might and then forced his magic out through the imperfect instrument. "_Dormion!_" Greengrass collapsed.

Harry stumbled backwards, breathing heavily. His arm hurt, and he felt guilty for physically attacking a girl (_don't be stupid, Mum said not to treat girls any differently_, he reminded himself), even if she was a lot better at fighting than him. Professor Aslanov revived Greengrass, and Harry held out his hand to help her up. She ignored it, picking herself up from the ground, then shook his hand. "Good duel," she said.

"You were really good," Harry commented. She smiled slightly and went back to sit near Davis.

"So," Professor Aslanov said, "our class will soon be at an end. For homework, I would like you to practice the sleeping spell and write me a foot of parchment on Rennervate." The class shoved their books into their bags and ran, trying to find their way to Charms.

**I'm sorry about the abrupt ending, my last two chapters haven't been as high quality as they normally are. Please review, though, with constructive criticism if possible!**


	11. Chapter 9: Interlude

**I promised a long chapter before, and then gave you a short one, so I added extra POVs in here. It was pretty fun to write the Three Broomsticks Scene. Thank you so much for your reviews, cloakable, ReadBooksWriteThings and Alys777! I love reviews!**

**These are in chronological order, and are meant to take place on September 1****st****, 1991. Warning for alcoholism (no drinking onstage) and for a somewhat disturbing Snape perspective. I have finally decided what the Defense Professor is up to, with help from one of my brothers.**

* * *

He generally enjoyed his time molding the Wizengamot into what it had to be, but today he was a man on a mission. In the past few weeks, he had been carefully slipping everything into position, and now it was time to watch as it all came together. Dumbledore had been distracted with his schoolchildren, and that had left him with the ability to get what needed to be done, done.

He hadn't had a Wizengamot seat for very long, but he had worked behind the scenes since before he had graduated Hogwarts (oh, what a filthy pit of scum it had become). Now, though, with so many noble families dead (what tragedies), his Most Ancient House had been restored to their rightful place.

Today, his bill would be passed. All Muggleborns would now have to achieve an A or higher at the end of each term, lest they be expelled from the school, forced to return to their rightful place amongst those disgusting Muggles. It was a step in the right direction, another move in the game of chess, and would distract attention from what the Board of Governors had in the works.

Oh yes, things were going quite well for Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

Dan Granger sat with his wife, preparing to read Hermione's nervous letter. She had wrote it just before the first day of school, and he knew that she was hiding a lot. He still couldn't believe that a witch had kidnapped his daughter, but he had seen it with his own eyes. Looking down at the scroll, he noticed several small, wrinkly circles. Teardrops.

Hermione was in boarding school now, magic boarding school, too far away for him to solve her problems. She was much more equipped for this anyway – it wasn't like there was anything he could do against wizards. Hopefully, Hermione would come to terms with this, if only because she would be stuck at that disgusting school for five years. This was his daughter, and Dan didn't want his daughter to get hurt. Taking a deep breath, Dan unrolled the letter and began to read.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I miss you so much. I know that I've owled you practically every day, but I can't help it. I hate it here, even if the library is gigantic. There was no one to tell me how to get there, and I wandered around until Dumbledore found me. He showed me the way, but I just wanted to stay away from him. How can I face him after what he did to us?_

_There's a lot of books, but there's no rhyme or reason to their placement. Nothing is alphabetical, or even organized by subject, and when I asked the librarian what the system was, she told me to "shh". It makes me miss my neat and orderly bookshelves at home._

_Like you suggested, I read a book on Healing as soon as I found the library. It's not like I had anything better to do. It took me all day to make it through that one, as it too lacked any sort of underlying organization._

_I'm sorry that I didn't owl you yesterday, but I was busy finishing the basic horizontal propulsion charm. I feel guilty doing this, but Professor McGonagall told me that nearly everyone else has a head start. You know, she said that I was working too hard and decided to show me a wizarding game. I just wanted her to go away, but she introduced me to Gobstones. It's sort of like a combination between marbles, I think, though I've never played it, and that game with the bouncing ball and those spiky things. Something about Jack, I think. Anyway, the issue is that they spurt this disgusting liquid all over you. I showered for nearly an hour to get rid of the stench. I hate the wizarding world._

_Also, mum, just because everyone knows that Dumbledore is intercepting these doesn't mean that you should use it as an opportunity to tell him what you think. He wouldn't show me the exact stuff you said, but I got the gist of it. Please, don't provoke him. There's really nothing we can do at this point._

_School starts tomorrow. Dumbledore has insisted on bringing me to the station so that I can meet people on the train. It seems really unnecessary to me, but it's not worth fighting._

_I wish I could be with you right now, but I'll owl you after the first day. Hopefully I won't get killed by one of the other students._

_Love from Hermione_

"I wish there was something, anything we could do!" Emma said, getting up and pacing around the room. "We're her parents, it's our responsibility to save her from that evil, manipulative monster!"

"Honey, we've done everything within our power," Dan reminded her. "It's so hard to admit, but we can't rescue her. She's stuck. Our little girl will have to grow up."

"Because she was kidnapped by those foul, evil, loathsome –"

"Emma," Dan said quietly, "they're listening, you know that they're listening. They've tolerated it before – we're expected to hate them – but we can't go too far. We don't know where the line is, but we do know that we can't afford to cross it."

"She's all alone," Emma sobbed. "She must be so afraid."

"She's not alone," Dan said, taking her hand. "We may not be able to help her escape, but we can support her emotionally. We can help her with her studies. We can love her."

"No matter what they do," Emma agreed, "she'll never be alone."

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore paced around his study, stopping occasionally to check one of his whirring, clicking, spinning instruments. Not all of these devices were useful, of course – some were simply noise-making movement machines and others did ridiculous tasks such as counting the amount of socks sold in Cuba – but a few incredibly important ones were dispersed throughout the collection.

That Potter boy had eluded him for three years, and no one could hide from Albus Dumbledore! He had been expecting to use Legilimency on him at the feast, but the boy had not looked him in the eye. Now he would have to call this boy into his office, which was suspicious in of itself. Although perhaps he could have a conversation with all the winners of Professor Aslanov's tournaments, it might prove useful anyway. His intel from the House-Elves stated that he had a red oak wand – that boy would be a good duelist.

Albus sighed, thinking about the guardianship papers of the boy. He had been proclaimed dead, and now he was quite obviously not dead. If Albus could reverse his legal status, why, his guardianship would go up for grabs. Albus did not want the boy for himself, but perhaps he could be placed with Augusta Longbottom. The Longbottoms were close friends with the Potters, and they had the correct political ideas. They could teach young Harry to use his position as the Potter Heir for good – to protect the Muggleborns and Halfbloods and Muggles and Squibs. To let those who deserved power take it, for the intelligent should rule, not the rich and well-connected. Besides, Harry Potter already seemed to be close friends with Neville Longbottom. But that wasn't the only member of Potter's friend group.

Neville Longbottom was the perfect friend for Harry Potter, a kind and hard-working fellow heir who understood that he didn't truly deserve power until he proved himself (which he never would). Ronald Weasley was more friendly with Dean Thomas than Harry Potter, but he was very friendly with Harry Potter, likely more than the poor boy knew how to deal with. That was to be expected, and while Ronald could be a bit lazy, he was used to hardships and pain. The Weasley boy could teach young Harry quite a bit about suffering and those who were oppressed by the Wizarding World.

Then there was Granger. Albus inwardly cringed when he thought of her, hating his part in her abduction. But it was all for the Greater Good, he knew, and it had to be done. She was intelligent, so intelligent, and was just what this world needed. An innovator. But things had to be done slowly or else the world would topple. Granger was young and idealistic, just as Albus had once been. She didn't understand this, and would need to be watched carefully, guarded closely, and controlled. She was a weapon – a powerful one, true, but she had to be aimed in the right direction. It was all the more important that he was ever vigilant about making sure she didn't backfire.

Not for the first time, Albus wondered if he should, perhaps, let her be. She was not even twelve, a simple girl who was scared. She must miss her parents terribly, and unlike most of the Hogwarts students she hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye to her parents in person. Granger wouldn't be allowed to go home for Christmas or Easter, and although the beauty of Hogwarts might convince her to like it, she would be so lonely. Perhaps he should let her go home to see her parents.

No. As much as it pained him, he could not. He would need to gain more control over her somehow, and she had to be taught that her actions had consequences. Besides, he could set up some sort of adventure during Christmas break, with less risk of it contaminating the other students. He would have to be cruel to her now, for her own good. For the Greater Good.

Albus sighed. He had let himself get sidetracked. Right now, he had to focus on getting the Potter heir firmly on his side. His plan might work, but the boy's guardian was a wildcard. In fact, a very rich wildcard, if his suspicions were to be believed. The boy wore simple, faded clothes that made him appear poor, but this was obviously a ruse. Everyone knew that Gringotts could keep a secret, and that they would only seal a vault if someone was truly dead. The Potter heir was rich, and there was no reason why his guardian wouldn't use the boy's vaults. So obviously, his guardian wanted to appear poor, which almost always meant that they were rich and had to hide their identity. Only someone already powerful and influential wouldn't try to ride on the political power of the Potter heir.

Of course, Gringotts couldn't truly keep a secret, not from Albus. When the Potter heir showed up, alive, he had checked the vaults and found that they had never been frozen as he had been lead to believe (he had later found out that Griphook was a complete double-crosser to everyone, but had not thought to verify that particular piece of information). Oh, the Wizengamot had moved for them to be frozen, but they didn't have the power.

Neither had the Potter Vaults been accessed, though, which meant not only that the Potter boy's guardian had enough to hide this, but he had so much money that he hadn't needed to take advantage of it by accessing the boy's vaults.

Someone rich, influential, and very smart. They knew that Albus had contacts at Gringotts. Perhaps they had even bribed Griphook to lie; Albus had never figured out who he had been working for. It was highly likely that young Harry had been raised by someone foreign, but there was not enough chance for it to merit a "suspicion" yet. But his suspicions did say that the boy's guardian was rich, influential, and cunning. Albus's "suspicions" were always to be believed.

And so, he had not yet made his move. He could not yet risk upsetting whoever had claimed guardianship of the heir, not yet. First, he would need to have a conversation with Harry to sound out his loyalties.

Legilimency? No, that would not do. The rich and powerful had ways to detect that. He would have to resort to conversation, an imperfect art, but Albus was well-practiced in its ways. For now, he had a plan, at least concerning young Harry.

Later in the week, he would meet his Head Boy and Girl, Aaron Michaels and Sasha Jones from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively. They would give him information on the new first years, as well as Chelsea Dune, and enigmatic third year Slytherin. She had been acting strange since the very end of the previous school year. He would also call in Granger, Thomas, and Perks to ask them how they were adjusting. Albus would have to prepare before his meeting with Granger – she was extraordinarily well-controlled, but she might start using accidental magic. Or worse, she could see through his plans.

Sighing contentedly, Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth. He had a plan. Albus was old and tired, and serving the Greater Good was difficult sometimes. Sometimes he hated what he was doing, wished that someone else could do it. But no one was clever enough, brave enough, powerful enough to fulfill his role. No, Albus was the best person for the job, the pinnacle of British wizardry, and this was his part to play. And he would play it.

For the Greater Good.

* * *

Fiddling with her papers, Minerva McGonagall waited nervously for the staff meeting to start. "How are your first years settling in?" Filius squeaked.

"As well as can be expected," she replied. Of course, they couldn't be expected to settle in that well, given the circumstances. Of her first years, one of them seemed set on finding his dead parents, one of them had lost two brothers and his father during the war, one of them was convinced that she had been kidnapped, and one of them was supposed to be dead. Really, the only normal first years she had were Miss O'Connor and Mr. Thomas. Minerva looked over at the clock, which immediately struck seven thirty.

"Ah, welcome back," Albus Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "I hope that you are all in good spirits."

"Yes, dear Albus," Horace said jovially, "though I do feel that I am getting a bit old for this!"

"Surely you would not deprive us of your skill," Dumbledore responded.

"Oh, no, I could never leave while there is no one to take my place. Nurturing the young minds of Hogwarts is my highest priority!"

"More like collecting them," Filius muttered to Minerva. She sighed. Horace's behavior was a pain, but she wouldn't be heard talking about a fellow teacher like that.

"So," Albus said, "I am afraid we must get down to business. Ivan, how have your first lessons been going."

"Well," he said, "considering the unfortunate circumstances. My predecessors did not have a uniform curriculum at all." Ivan Aslanov motioned to the golden chain around his neck. "I have to say, your methods for fitting in so many classes are quite…original."

Minerva sighed. With two classes a week in each core subject (other than DADA) for every child and only half the year in each one of the classes, the schedules were impossible. Four classes per week in first, second, fourth, and fifth year was already twenty periods. Sixth and seventh years were combined into one class, but they had three periods a week. Twenty-six periods of teaching, and with three periods a day, there were fifteen available slots. Even if all the students were combined into a single class for each year, there were still sixteen periods required. That was why History of Magic was not a N.E.W.T option; ghosts couldn't use time-turners.

"I'm afraid we all have to make do," Albus said wearily. Time-turners could travel back a maximum of five hours, and they each had seven hours charge per day. Thus, N.E.W.T classes would be forced to have a study hall on occasion, and no one knew how Professor Aslanov was making his extra classes. "How are the first years doing?"

"Poor dears," Pomona said sadly. "Nearly half of them are missing a parent. But they're a hardworking bunch, I have no doubt they'll do just fine here."

"I trust that you'll be available if they need counseling?" Albus asked.

"Always. And you?"

"I would never turn away a student who needs help," Albus responded, his eyes twinkling. Minerva knew how right that was. He would never turn away anybody who needed help, student or not. "Filius?"

"They're very clever," the small professor answered. "Two of them are fast friends already, I believe they've known each other for a while. Corner and Cornfoot, it's as if they were born to be friends. Li seems incredibly intelligent, and Goldstein has already fallen in love with the library. I'm a bit worried about Turpin and Runcorn, as I heard them using the M-word. I disciplined them, of course, five points from each, and at least it wasn't directed towards anyone in particular."

"I see," Albus looked troubled. "They are children; young, impressionable children. Perhaps they can be saved if they become friends with someone with less…extreme views. Michael Corner, perhaps, or even Miss Granger."

"I'm not sure that it can be sorted out that easily, Albus," Filius said, "but I trust your judgement."

"Thank you for your support, Filius. Horace?"

"This is the year where many of the heirs were born, especially on the supremacist side. Mind you, I'm not prejudiced, I never put much stock in blood purity, but a well-connected year all the same. Talented enough to make my little Slug Club, many of them." Minerva felt a headache coming on. Horace always had that effect.

"Excellent, excellent," Albus nodded. "And I trust that they are adjusting to their classes?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Malfoy in particular is doing well. Narcissa's son, you know, she was always a precocious child. So sad…" Minerva was getting fed up, and fast.

"I see," Albus said brightly, turning to her. "And how have yours been doing?"

"Considering that one has been kidnapped, one lost three people in the war, and one is supposed to be dead? Extraordinarily well," Minerva responded. Immediately, she regretted being so rude to Albus, after all he had done for her. She knew that him, more than anybody, hated what he had to do and the destruction the war had caused. Ever since the incident with Miss Granger, she had been doubting him far too much. This was the wizard who had defeated two of the most powerful Dark Lords in history, who had sacrificed so much for so many. Suddenly, she felt very small. "I apologize Albus, I…"

"No matter," he said. "I can understand your frustration. Mr. Potter is a mystery, and I wish to make certain that his guardian is treating him well. His frequent attitude changes, his exhaustion, his posture…they are truly worrying. And there is nothing we can do about Miss Granger; the Ministry decree was quite clear. I hate forcing her into this as much as you do, Minerva." He smiled sadly at her. "If she comes to you again, you may blame me; she will believe it."

"I couldn't in good conscience –"

"This is not your fault, and as the Headmaster of this school it is my responsibility to take the blame." Albus sighed. "I only wish that the Ministry was not so strict so that I could fulfill her wish to leave. I should have argued more against that decree."

Minerva looked down, thoroughly ashamed of herself. Here she was, thinking that Albus was cruel for threatening to wipe Miss Granger's parents' memories of her, while he blamed himself for the pain it caused her. He even offered to take the young Gryffindor's hatred off of Minerva, allow her to have a good relationship with the girl at the expense of his happiness.

"How are Neville an' Harry doin'?" Rubeus asked. "I knew their parents when they were here," he explained.

"They seem to be doing well," Minerva said.

"Now," Albus asked, "what are your opinions on the new standardization?" Minerva looked over at Albus, and his eyes twinkled back at her. She knew that she was forgiven.

* * *

Severus Snape was sober for the first time since he could remember, which wasn't very long, and he hated it. Groaning, he picked himself up from the hard ground where he had been sleeping. Ever since the incident with that horrid boy, he had been forced to lie low, stay out of trouble. Without the ability to beg, he had no money left for food, let alone alcohol.

He knew that he deserved this pain, this suffering. It wasn't right for him to drown his worries in drink, to forget the war, to forget Lily. Severus spat at the ground, unable to contain his anger. Walls of Occlumency that he had kept since he was young, kept throughout the war, had broken at the Battle of Hogwarts. Shattered.

All along, it had been for Lily. Always, for Lily. He had joined the Deatheaters to keep her safe, to get the power he needed to impress her, to make her see that they belonged together. Severus cursed himself. He had been stupid, then. They didn't belong together. He didn't deserve her, would never deserve her. But it's not like Potter was any better.

Severus had negotiated for her life with the Dark Lord, made it a condition of his service. And every time he faced her in battle, he would hold his fire, take unnecessary risks, to make sure she didn't die.

He hadn't killed Potter, no, as much as he liked to think he had. Yes, the spell had come from his direction, and yes, Lily had believed that it was his fault. He let her believe it, as painful as it was, claimed credit for the filthy bastard's death. Oh, Severus wished that he had truly been the one to kill that arrogant toe-rag. But it hadn't been his spell that was deflected into Potter.

It had been Lily's.

As much as he hated it with every fiber of his being, Severus knew that Lily loved Potter, not him, never him. She could never know what she had done, or she would break. Severus couldn't do that to her, not even to spare himself from her wrath.

He had been the one who punished Lily's sister, Pansy or something, for what she had done to Lily. Lily had nearly killed him when she found out, and it was only due to his cunning that he escaped from Number 4, Privet Drive alive.

Lily had said that she hated her sister, but Severus should've known better. His beautiful Lily didn't know what it truly meant to hate someone, hadn't truly hated her sister. Lily was beyond hate, the most loving, caring person in the world. She could even care for a monster like him – that is, until he destroyed everything she held dear.

Lily wasn't supposed to be there that day. She had the brat to take care of, the child that was part angel and part demon, a paradox. Potter had stolen his lily, his Lily, and there was a child. A stupid Potter spawn, with black hair and glasses. An intelligent son of Lily, with her bright green eyes. She was a mother, what idiot fought when she had a child to look after, what Gryffindor went to battle with a son at home with all his relations dead?

Lily. Lily was a Gryffindor, and had defied his every expectation. She had gone to the battle, when he had not been expecting her, had not been on his watch. Severus had been the one who collapsed the balcony, who buried her far under the rubble with no chance of survival, her wand snapped in two by his own spell.

She had died, and it was his fault, Severus's fault, and he deserved to remember.

* * *

Skeeters lived on rumors, and Rosmerta was no exception. Rumors had been flying today, what with Hogwarts starting and the controversial Wizengamot bill that seemed to have something to do with Muggleborns, so Rosmerta was in her element as she served the customers of The Three Broomsticks. Of course, unlike her sister, Rosmerta didn't use rumors to tear others down. Few believed that kind and gentle Rosmerta could abhor anybody, but she absolutely abhorred Rita and all that she stood for. Rosmerta simply wanted to know things and relate to her customers.

She had heard quite a lot, today, but from what she could piece together it was clear that things were happening. Events tended to converge to a central point, a time when all things happened. Most major events within a year of each other happen on the same day, even when there were no obvious connections. So Rosmerta knew that even if only a quarter of what she heard was true, everything was about to change.

"We'll take two Butterbeers, please," said the girl sitting at the table. She must have just graduated from Hogwarts last year, as her face appeared so youthful and innocent. With her sat a young man, who seemed not much older. "Say, did you hear what Elise said?" She asked conversationally.

"Did it have to do with the Wizengamot vote?" The young man asked. "Oh, and could we also take some sandwiches?"

"Sure thing," Rosmerta said, checking her order scroll to make sure that it wrote the drinks and food down correctly.

"No," the girl answered. "I heard that the Defense Professor attacked his students!"

"On the first day?" Rosmerta heard the young man ask as she regretfully returned to the back to retrieve the couple's food. When she returned, she heard the man respond "…and he is from Durmstrang."

"You know," the girl said wistfully, "it makes me miss Hogwarts. How come the students get all the fun?"

"I don't know," the boy said. "He seems scary, that one. And no one knows why he applied for the position, someone powerful like him. It's cursed, everyone knows that."

"Don't be silly," the girl told him, "it can't be cursed."

"Our last Defense professor," responded the young man, "was a Confounded Muggle with a twig for a wand. It's cursed."

"I heard he's there because of the Potter heir. He's still alive! My younger sister told me that he was Sorted yesterday. Elise told me that Aslanov's there to finish him off," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Annie," the young man said, "I've heard that he's looking for the Chamber of Secrets. I've heard that he's there to kidnap and experiment on one of Hagrid's creatures. I've heard that he's there to channel the power of the Sorting Hat. You can't really believe those sorts of rumors!"

"The Defense Professor is always there to do something bad," said the girl, raising her eyebrow. "Don't think it will be any different this time."

* * *

She lay there, weak, waiting, watching. Her skin was sallow, unkempt hair hanging down from her head in ugly strings. Her nails were caked in grime, her teeth yellow, her eyes dark and nearly lifeless.

It was not a good day, but it was The Day, and that would make it good. She clutched the sharpened spoon close to her, preparing for the entrance of the guards.

Most of the prisoners could not think of escaping, for it was a happy thought, and They took all of those away. But for her, escaping was not pleasant. Life was pain and suffering, no matter where she was. No, escaping was not a happy thought. But it was necessary.

Her master needed her, she had to fulfill her solemn duty and assist him in his rise. She would die for her cause, this she knew, and the desire burned within her, an ice-cold fire that provided neither light nor warmth, but a purpose. She had a purpose, and she would fulfill it, and it was that simple.

"And I can't believe she's not gone yet," a man was saying. Up ahead, she could see the Light Ones, the bright guardians that glowed with pure happiness. She stopped herself from reaching towards it, it would do her no good.

"Oh, I don't know," a woman responded. "It's not like she's got anything left for them to take." The guards turned the corner, two warm, bright, shining creatures with them. She wanted to remember what they were, but the above was a happy thought, and it would not stick. The man bent down over her still form, placing down a bowl of gruel.

"She's nearly gone," he said. "Thank goodness, I hate coming down here." The guard shivered. "You think she's dead? I'm going to check."

"We're not even supposed to be in the cell," the woman protested. "I'm not sure it's wise to –"

The man didn't listen, and bent down over her. She waited until he was right there, her heart pounding away weakly inside her chest. And then, a snake rearing back to sink fangs into an unsuspecting victim, she struck.

The man lay on the ground, trembling, as she pointed the wand she had stolen at the woman and her sharpened spoon at his throat. "Tell me the way out," she told the other guard, a feral grin on her face.

"No," the woman said. "Protocol 558 says that in event of a hostage situation, negotiations are not to be made. I'm sorry, Richard." She pointed her wand at the prisoner.

"Lower that now," she said, "or I kill your little friend."

"How about you let him go now," said the guard, "or I kill you."

The prisoner cackled. "You'd be killed by them, they'd kill you, for killing me. Go on, I welcome death! Kill me!"

"I –" the woman said, disturbed, eyes flickering from her fallen comrade to the escaping prisoner. "You'll never get through the dementors."

"Really?" Asked the prisoner. Immediately, she stumbled forwards, bumping into the other woman and twisting away from her spell. She grabbed the silver key in the guard's belt, whispering "solace," and felt herself whirled away in a tornado of light…

She hit the ground, hard, retching up what remained of her meager meal from the day before. "_Stupefy!_" The guard shouted. The prisoner ducked, kicking the Auror in the leg and scrambling to her feet.

"_Stupefy!_" She ducked, and the spell hit the glass window, which shattered. The Auror screamed, sending forth a nonlethal spell chain, but the prisoner leaped gracefully out of the window, plummeting towards the ground…

She scrambled for purchase on the smooth stone walls, and managed to grab one of the gargoyles. Above her, through the storm, she could hear the Auror calling for reinforcements. The escapee looked down – a hundred feet of sheer stone, and then stormy grey sea. Lightening crackled in the clouds and thunder roared. She was a witch – she could live, there was a chance, but she could die in her weakened state.

The prisoner held up the wand – in her hands, drained from exposure to Them, she would not be able to cast any strong magics. She felt herself slipping, and pulled herself up further. She would have to drop – reinforcements would be coming soon.

Taking a deep breath, she let go, and tumbled down, down, down to the wrathful sea…

She bounced, once, twice, and then plunged, deep into the water. It dragged her down, pulled her under, a thousand hands dragging her into the depths.

Struggling, the escapee broke the surface, breathing in salty air, so unlike the stale air of the prison. And then she swam, away from the prison, strength ebbing from her limbs with every stroke, until she could swim no more. The water dragged her beneath the waves, and black spots appeared in her vision. She couldn't breathe, couldn't fight. And for the second time in her life, she gave up…

Air, cold, clean, clear air. "You alright there, Miss?" The woman looked around, startled. She was alive, still alive. She had not failed the Dark Lord! Looking around, she realized that she was on a fishing boat, a foolish Muggle standing over her, fishing rod in his hand. At the other edge of the boat sat a boy of about ten, reading. "Miss, are you alright?"

She smiled, an evil, cackling smile. "I'm good," she responded, her voice hoarse, spitting out water. "Can you take me to land?"

"Of course," he said in a friendly way. "How'd you get out here in this storm, Miss? You don't look so well either, if it's not rude for me to say. Look like you could use a warm meal. I'm Fred Benner, by the way, and this is me son, David."

She grimaced. These Muggles were scum, but she would have to put up with them so that she could revive her lord. She couldn't say her true name – the Ministry would get the idiotic Muggle please-men searching for her soon. "Alice," she said, trying to keep the sneer off her face. The happy memories were so, so far away, but she did remember one face. "Alice McGonagall. I got shipwrecked."

"Nice ta meet you, Alice McGonagall. I'm sorry to hear that," he said sympathetically. "I gotta go back ta rowing now, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she said, grinning. The happy thoughts were returning, now, the fiery determination to revive her master growing withing her and eating all thought of lying low. "I don't mind at all."

She looked up at the sky. Lightning struck somewhere on the Isle of Azkaban, and she laughed at the stormy heavens. Bellatrix Lestrange was free!


End file.
